


Red Vessel

by GrumpyBee



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adoribull - Freeform, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Male Friendship, Rape/Non-con Elements, non-canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-04-26 23:11:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 59,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14412534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrumpyBee/pseuds/GrumpyBee
Summary: Dorian is kidnapped by the Venatori in the Hissing Wastes and a rescue mission is launched for one very talented mage. In the aftermath of the battle, Dorian and Bull further explore their relationship, but something is lurking in the background, and it all has to do with why Dorian was taken in the first place. Can they weather it, or will their fragile bond crumble under the strain?





	1. Gone

“Does that noise ever stop?”

“Well, it’s sand blowing on sand in a place full of wind and sand.”

“Thank you. That makes so much more sense now.” Dorian glared at the back of The Iron Bull as the large man kept walking. They were slowly zig-zagging their way diagonally across the sand rather than straight up, conserves energy and makes it so you can get over the dune Scout Harding had explained, and Dorian trusted the little red-head who had spent as much time outdoors as Dorian had with his head buried in a book, so yes, he was going to listen to and trust the scout. He didn’t have to enjoy doing it though.

Why were they trekking through dunes? The group was slowly picking their way over a sand mountain that had the gall to call itself a measly dune toward the Statue Camp. Why Maxwell Trevelyan had chosen such a desolate spot was beyond Dorian. For once, not one of the companions had said anything about this being a ‘good place to make camp’ and yet, the land-grabbing rogue had stabbed the ground with the marker with as much flair and enthusiasm as founding a new kingdom and lo a camp was born. Dorian sighed as he mused that perhaps he and his compatriots should again start telling him where the best stops were.

Strange camp locations and zig-zagging aside, overall, Dorian was quite pleased with their progress in the Hissing Wastes. They had killed many, many people, mostly Venatori and he could not help but be delighted at the prospect that those men and women would not be returning to his homeland to cock it up more than they already had. No, Dorian was feeling quite accomplished, however; he was not pleased with his age-old nemesis: nature.

The sun was shining in a stupidly obnoxiously manner and it was so bright that it was reflecting off the sand making Dorian squint (oh the wrinkles he was getting from all this frowning!) The sand itself had decided that it was going to be so amazingly fine that even the slightest breeze could kick up the little grains to happily lodge themselves into Dorian’s eyes and make bed there against his abused corneas. Those two things were finally capped off with nature’s coup de grace in the wind, which was not cool, but hot, sharp and infrequently common. Dorian’s eyes were constantly watering and he was forever wiping at them and then smudging his kohl. He had thought to forgo his kohl, but a man must have standards, and besides the black soot was mixed with menthol leaves which burned and cooled his eyes in such a soothing manner that it was a relief to reapply his makeup rather than a chore. Also, a certain Qunari had also made it known, rather enthusiastically, that he enjoyed the smudged look Dorian carried. “You look sultry all messed up like that.” Bull had breathed into his ear one evening in their tent while buried balls deep in Dorian’s ass.

“Do you know how distracting it is seeing you like that and thinking about your hot mouth around me?” He’d made little rocking motions with his hips, one massive hand clutched in Dorian’s hair while pulling the mage’s head to one side so he could whisper obscene things into an already hot and appropriately wet ear.

“Your eyes look like when you try to take my cock all the way down your throat.” Dorian had shuddered at that. He loved sucking Bull. Loved it like a drunk loved cheap wine. Bull’s cock was heavy and solid, the skin thicker than a human’s which Dorian loved to pull at with his lips, sliding his tongue around underneath it to lick at Bull’s flesh. The head was large and flared, and when Dorian ran his tongue over it and into the slit he was rewarded with the bitter saltiness and low growls from the horned man. When he tried to take Bull all the way down it was a strain, his lips stretched and jaw open to its limits, Bull pumping his hips in tiny movements like he couldn’t help it, he always did get a portion of Bull’s cock down his throat before having to come up for air coughing and being very un-sexy. Bull thought differently of course. He would praise Dorian and drag him up for kisses all the while mumbling how amazing his _kadan_ was. Dorian figured most men get a bit gushy when a lover almost manages to deep throat them (while Dorian was quite talented, there was no way he could take all of Bull without say, suffocating to death). So, if Bull liked his unintentionally erotic look, then he wasn’t going to deprive the big lummox.

Dorian sighed at the memory in the tent and the subsequent memory of sucking Bull off, of Bull always being a careful and generous lover and making him feel safe to be who he was. He looked up at the retreating back of his ex-Qunari lover and noticed the group was quite far from him. No, nature and all its ridiculous soft, sinking sand was _not_ Dorian’s friend.

“Bull!” Dorian call and saw the massive man tilt his head to the sky a little, throwing a look over his shoulder at him. There was no smile on his lover’s face and Dorian guessed that his complaints had finally worn thin. He swallowed thickly and yelled, “My staff is going to need a real polishing now!” And he made a show of repeatedly stabbing his staff blade into the ground as a hiking stick.

“Ha!” The Iron Bull’s face broke out into a grin and he finally turned his body toward Dorian and extended his hand. Dorian, gleeful that his olive branch had been accepted, scurried (no not scurried, he gracefully picked up speed thank you) to catch up to the others and that wonderfully welcoming hand and smile.

A gust of wind and sand knocked Dorian backwards, it felt like a wall had smashed into him and the mage stumbled and rolled backwards. Desperately he stabbed his staff into the ground for real this time as the wind pushed him further and further down the sand. Another strong gust toppled him again as he rolled. This time when he got to his feet again he stayed low, lowering his center of gravity and stabbed his staff into the sand with an ice spell to make it at least a little wetter. Grabbing his cloak he desperately tried to wrap it around his head, covering his ears, nose and mouth before hunching over to protect his airways.

He didn’t know which way he was facing, he couldn’t open his eyes because when he did sand would dash against him, and he couldn’t see anyway. The wind was a howling, shrieking banshee in his ears. He wasn’t going to move – thank you Scout Harding – no, he was going to be a good little mageboy and wait for the storm to die down and for the others to find him, and make sure he didn’t get buried.

Dorian was so busy giving himself a little mental pat on the back for remembering that survival tip during duress that he almost missed that tell-tale murmuring.

 _Shit!_ He strained his ears, desperate to confirm if he had heard correctly while hoping that he was just being paranoid. No, there it was, that low, sinister rumblings of mage-chanting. Dorian was stuck in a sandstorm with the Venatori. No, correction, he was stuck in _their_ sandstorm, their magically created one. _Shit. Shit. Shit!_ Dorian needed to get out of there. He figured getting lost and possibly plummeting to his death in a ravine was better than being a sitting duck. He quickly lurched to his feet intent on running blindly but never took a step. The back of his head exploded in pain as bright light flashed behind his eyelids. As Dorian slumped into the arms of a man he certainly did not want to be close to he angrily thought _I’m going to fucking kill whoever has abducted me._ Then nothing.

 

oOo

 

The Iron Bull considered himself a patient man. Very. Patient. But Dorian was a man who excelled in everything he put his mind to, or in this case what he didn’t put his mind to and the mage was currently excelling in annoying Bull with his excessive complaining. Bull understood that Dorian was uncomfortable, but so was everyone else, he also realised that Varric complained just as much as Dorian, but the thing with Dorian was that Bull didn’t even know if Dorian meant what he was saying or just complaining without realising it. It could be a real downer sometimes. Rain-this, soggy-that, sand-this, mud-that. Honestly, Bull had thought that there was a limit to how much a person could gripe. No, Dorian was an accomplished professor in the school of general-annoyances and complaints.

Bull sighed as he trudged ahead, he had compromised when he realised that Dorian didn’t really expect a response to his complaining (usually) and he travelled ahead so that he could still hear the angry murmurs of the mage, but didn’t have to listen to them. It was a good compromise, except for the fact that he didn’t have his sexy mage next to him because of this.

For all his hatred of nature and anything that wasn’t structurally man-made and filled with comforts, nature was very kind to Dorian. The sun made his skin glow to an even glistening brown and the fine sheen of sweat that formed on the toned mage’s muscles made Bull’s mouth water. The other day he had tracked a single drop of sweat that ran from Dorian’s brow all the way down to his collarbone where it pooled enticingly in the hollow of his neck with his eye. Bull had barely contained the urge to lap that shameless drop up and latch his teeth onto that delicious bone and give his mage something to distract him.

Dorian was glorious in the moonlight. He was softened and sensual. The brown, dusky pink of his nipples becoming darker twin disks that begged to be bitten and lapped at. Bull loved running his scarred lips against Dorian’s nipples, and the noises the man made when he did it, he certainly loved it too. Even the green forests were striking against Dorian looks, made him exotic and primal, really, Dorian and nature should have been the best of friends, but instead…

“Bull!” The Iron Bull stopped and rolled his eye. Really? Can’t a guy have some peace trekking across the sand? He reluctantly turned his head to cast his good eye over to the irate mage. When had Dorian fallen so far behind? The mage was leaning heavily against his staff with two hands. His hair was a mess (by Dorian standards) and he seemed to be panting a bit. All in all, Bull thought Dorian was looking adorable, too bad about the complaining.

Dorian was smirking, “My staff is going to need a real polishing now!” And Bull barked out a loud breath of laughter as his mage stabbed the sand dramatically as he trudged forward. He turned, feeling a little guilty for being so annoyed with Dorian’s complaining he had let him get so far behind. He stretched his hand out with the intent that when Dorian reached him he would hold the mage's arm and help him move through the sand and maybe – against Scout Harding’s advice – offer to carry Dorian on his back. Maybe that would even stop him complaining. He saw Dorian’s eyes light up and felt even guiltier as the mage started scurrying towards him.

In the corner of his eye Bull saw the gust of wind swirling over the top of the dune. A twisting, whipping cacophony of dust and air, mixing into a wave of power. “Dorian!” He yelled as he started running. He watched as his lover was slammed with the wind, a solid barrier of air smashed into him so hard he was flung side-ways and backwards. Bull’s stomach dropped as he watched Dorian’s body being flung like a careless rag in the breeze, his neck snapping sideways as his body was flung one way but his limbs stayed in place before following. Wind was _not_ that strong. Was it?

Then the sand came. It wasn’t even just wind anymore, it was sand flying everywhere and Bull and the others were right on the edges of it but Dorian, he was in the middle and as much as he squinted he could no longer see the mage. “Dorian!” He braced against the wind and trudged forward. It felt like he was walking against water the wind was so strong. He didn’t even notice his name being called until he felt a tug on his arm pulling him back.

He spun and snarled ready to smash whoever was stopping him from getting to Dorian, but it was Max and he was quickly tying a length of cloth around Bull’s wrist which was attached to his own. Glancing back, he saw that Cassandra was also tethered her steely determined look firmly affixed upon her face, they were all connected by cloth with slack in between them to allow movement. “Quick! Put this on! Then we can go!” Max’s voice was muffled behind the handkerchief he had wrapped around his face as he shoved another cloth into Bull’s hand.

Bull turned quickly as he fastened the rag around the bottom half of his face and felt Max’s gloved hand pushing his back urging him on. He was grateful that they understood, no one trying to stop him. True Companions. They all started calling in turn as they slowly moved forward against the tide of sand.

“Dorian! Dorian! The high purple spell! Cast it and we’ll see!” Max was yelling. The poor rogue really had no idea about magic, despite his arm having become one of the most powerful magical artefacts in the land. But Andraste bless him, he tried as he rapidly scanned the barely visible dunes.

“Dorian! _Kadan_! Stay put! We’ll get you!” Bull had no idea where he was going, just where he thought he saw Dorian flung when he was first hit. “Dorian! Dorian!”

In a momentary lull of shouting Bull froze and he could feel it crawl down his spine, he knew they had all heard it and the collective tension of the group stretched in the air and snapped.

“Fuck! Dorian! Where are you?” Max all but screamed. Bull surged forward pulling his hapless teammates behind him. _No, no, NO_. Dorian was _not_ alone in this sandstorm with the Venatori.

The chanting got louder, the wind got stronger but there, in the short distance Bull saw them. Two black-robed figures one of them holding Dorian. Touching his _Kadan_ who wasn’t moving. Bull roared.

They ran as one towards their friend, the wind desperately trying to hold them back. They were so close when one of the Venatori turned and saw them. A flash of darkness flew past Bull at frightful speed and suddenly there was a dagger buried in the back of the cloaked figure holding Dorian. Bull’s heart leapt. _Yes!_ They were so close now and Max – who had cut his rope - phased in quickly and stabbed the bastard, but the other Venatori wasted no time. He scooped Dorian up and with no warning at all dissipated into a cloud of black smoke and mist as Max slashed one millisecond too late through the darkness.

“NO! SHIT!” Bull screamed as the wind died and just as quickly and the Hissing Wastes were returned to normalcy. He sprinted the last few feet to were Dorian had been. There, glinting in the sand, was his staff. Bull stared at it then bent and snatched it up from that Blight-ridden sand. He held it, feeling the weight of it, staring at the spots were Dorian’s hand should be. Staring at the staff blade that had suffered just to amuse him. And as he stared he heard the moaning of the injured Venatori mage. His eye flickered between the two. _Blade, mage, blade, mage..._

Bull didn’t even realise he had started moving forward when he felt two firm hands push against his chest, his eye now fixed on that black-clothed man that was being dragged away from him.

“Bull. Stop.” He looked down at Max who had removed his mask and was staring firmly but beseechingly at him. “Stop Bull. You can’t kill him.”

“I will cut his tongue out. I will gouge his eyes out and sew his lips shut. I will collar him and drag him through glass for what he has done.” He stared at the now quivering mage. Ignoring that Max was putting real force into keeping Bull in place. He just wanted to stab the mage. Stab him with Dorian’s staff and keep stabbing until there was nothing left but a bloody mess of mangled unrecognisable meat. He could imagine smelling the sharp metallic scent of blood on the wind, the sting of acid and the stench of shit and he wanted it. He would crush the pathetic mage and desecrate the remains with piss then leave him out for the elements and animals to feast. Yes, that’s what he deserved. His eye narrowed.

“Bull stop that. You can do no such thing. Dorian comes first.” That got Bull’s attention and he stopped growling and the murderous fantasy faded a little. “Now, we need him to find Dorian, and we will get answers out of him. I promise you. But no killing or mutilating. Agreed?” Max must have seen the madness in Bull’s face, because when Bull finally looked at the rogue again there were creases of worry at the corners of his eyes, his eyebrows pulled up into a concerned frown, and Bull realised that Max’s hands were rubbing firmly up and down on his pectorals attempting to soothe and calm and when those hands slid up to broad shoulders, squeezed and shook him a little, Bull did calm down. A bit.

“Look,” Max turned towards the mage, “Cassandra is suppressing his magic, he can’t do anything. We’ll take him back to camp now and find out where they’ve taken Dorian okay?” Max nodded at Cassandra who, with a grim set to her lips, brought her shield down and knocked out the mage.

“He should be out long enough for us to reach camp and call for the others.” She hefted the mage onto her shoulder in a real show of strength and calm and started quickly walking towards the camp. Bull supposed it would be better for her to carry the mage, he might be tempted to impale the man on his horns. He looked down at the staff in his hands, rubbing his thumb against the grooved metal. All the inconceivable rage suddenly went from erupting to simmering and he felt quite embarrassed that he had let his rage compromise a mission, he was mortified that he had to squash down the urge to - like a petulant child – throw a tantrum because something he lo…treasured was taken away from him (it would be a murderous tantrum, but inappropriate nonetheless). He straightened his spine. Cleared his thoughts and nodded, business-like to the still staring Max.

“All right. Let’s hurry.” The relief in Max’s eyes was palpable and he too without a word spun and started sprinting towards the camp. As Bull followed his boss, he noted bitterly that he had almost succumbed to the insanity he always feared would come with leaving the Qun, but it didn’t escape him that the closest he had come to madness wasn’t his because of his loss due to exile and abandonment of everything he knew, but the loss of something much more terrifying: his _Kadan_.


	2. Two Prisoners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian unashamedly gets very creative in stopping the Venatori plans, and Max turns to old tactics to force information out of their prisoner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know, assume that the italicised words are in Tevene or another language or thought, you'll know which is which. I am using known words that will still be italicised but smattered into Common. When there is a whole chuck, assume it is a different language because I'm not researching another language, no time for that. Enjoy! :D

Dorian awoke slowly, his brain trying to arouse him but his eyes and body refusing to cooperate. He knew he was in danger, but nothing would listen to him. Even his poor eager brain felt like thickened soup, swirling around in waves of pain and pressure. He heard talking around him, but the words were nonsense. He recognised the cadence and knew his mother tongue but, now, everything was simply too slow.

He was lying on something hard and unforgiving. He knew that. He gave up trying to fully awaken himself and instead felt. A bench under him, cold and rough as he smoothed his fingers minutely against it. He wanted to roll over, but again, his body simply did not obey him. The smell then. Cold air, damp and dirt-like, a staleness that shouldn’t be there. Since his body refused to move Dorian carefully relaxed to see if he felt anything but the sickening sluggishness that plagued him.

His head, noticeably, was throbbing. A hit? Yes, he remembered that, in the sand. His legs, nothing hurt and he found he could clench his toes slightly, wonderful. His arms also didn’t hurt, neither did any part of his body except his head. What in the world had those bastards done to him? Dorian’s mind struggled a little waking up more and getting more frustrated with the lack of response from his eyes.

He heard a rattle of metal and the heavy clunk of a lock. He was in a cell then.  _“If he struggles, restrain him, but he should not struggle.”_  Tevene then, central dialect, they were close enough that Dorian could hear what they said.

Dorian griped in his mind as he felt several hands moving him around. Thankfully nothing really hurt but his head and the hands were surprisingly gentle if not noticeably struggling with his weight. He attributed this to his fitness and generous growth of muscle mass thanks to all the traversing around the countryside he was forced to do when Max dragged him along for all his jobs and  _not_  that he was getting fat. He heard his captors breathing and grunting as they attempted to lift him.

 _“Perhaps the Templars are more suited to this work?”_ One of the men moving him grunted.

_“Nonsense! The Templars we have are indisposed. Now stop whining and move him!”_

Dorian wilfully tried to wake himself up now. He managed to slide his eyes open a fraction but all he could discern from his surroundings was darkness and fire-light. They were moving him – slowly – through twists and turns with no sunlight from what Dorian could tell. Underground then. He would become lost if he escaped now and he still felt off. He decided to save his strength and see where they ended up, so he remained limp, but mentally calming himself and willing clarity to his foggy mind.

After what seemed like an age – after few stops where Dorian was unceremoniously dumped on the ground so the mages could catch their breaths – he was finally dragged to his destination. He was, once again let to flop on the floor while the mages reorganised themselves. The room smelled heavily of herbs, the sickly sweet and papery scent of burned Jasmine and Winterthorn. Dorian’s stomach clenched as he thought of home, those scents were used in temples, used for worship, perfectly harmless, but in this circumstance, Dorian was not happy about what, or who, these men and women were worshipping.

 _“Bring the vessel.”_  A more commanding voice sounded through the room, and people scrambled to pick Dorian up. They dragged him and laid him on another hard surface. Once Dorian’s back was down he struggled in earnest. He had regained a lot of his strength thanks to the inefficiency of the mages bringing him here. But as hands grappled with him, he was sorely outnumbered and something was  _still_  blocking his magic. Magebane or a Templar he suspected. After a brief but quiet struggle (Dorian would not give them the pleasure of voicing his terror) he was manacled down to what he now saw was a round stone altar.

He flopped back down and for the sake of it rattled his chains,  _“I say, not terribly inventive, are we?”_  He returned to his mother tongue as he glanced around the room, taking in the candles that littered every conceivable surface, the banners and standards that adorned the walls, someone had even brought what looked to be an antique chair which rested rather conspicuously in the corner of the room.  _“You should all join a travelling group of bards for these theatrics.”_

 _“Be quiet. Strip him.”_  The head Venatori waved a dismissive hand at him and turned away.

 _“Now, now. If you all wanted to see me naked you only had to ask. No need for the kidnapping.”_  Dorian kept him voice amused but the cold dread building inside him was turning to sickly nausea. It was a defence, keep smiling mother always said, never let them see your weakness, keep smiling. He kept up a running banter, Varric would have been proud.  _“So wonderful, what you’ve done with this place. I particularly fancy the dried corpses, very Necro-esque, which, I’m sure you know, is a particular interest of mine. Watch it!”_

Dorian scowled as one of the mages had given up removing his finery in the correct manner and resorted to cutting it off him.  _“THAT was a Celrini you barbaric uncultured savage! A robe designed and crafted by one of the most talented and sought-after cloth artisans of this age! A one of a kind! Did you learn nothing of heritage and art?!”_ He revelled in the use of words predominantly reserved for Qunari.

‘Oh Bull,’ Dorian thought, ‘please  _Amatus_ , please find me. I need you. Please, Max, don’t let me die here.’ Dorian’s mental strength broke for a second as he allowed a little internal panic before squashing it down again. He was pleased to see that immediately after his chastising some Venatori hands stilled for a few seconds over the rest of the garment while the offending mage quickly ducked away. ‘Good to know where my countrymen’s priorities lie’ Dorian though cynically.

 _“Hurry up and strip him!”_ Head mage was getting stroppy now, Dorian realised. Perhaps more prodding was called for. Angry people make mistakes.

_“Would it be so terribly rude of me to ask to use the facilities? After all, I have been unconscious and had been trekking through the sand for a while before you collected me.”_

_“Silence!”_

_“No? Not even a little mage’s break? One of you could even hold my hand. I would be no trouble.”_

_“Shut your mouth before we shut it for you! In fact. You! Gag him now!”_

_“I’m sorry, not until we’ve dated at least seven times.”_  Dorian quipped as he leaned away from the mage approaching him with the gag. He shook his head furiously back and forth just to make things difficult.

_“Fuck! Hold his head still!”_

_“AAAHHHHHH the whore’s son bit me!”_

_“AAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”_ Dorian spat out the tiny bit of blood he’d managed to get in his mouth. Pity he wasn’t a blood mage…well, maybe not. When he got back to Skyhold, he was going to get Bull to teach him some self-defence. He had some paltry knowledge, but nothing like Bull would know. Dirty, underhanded, but skilled.

 _“Enough.”_  A chilling voice rang through the air. Calm, deep, like several voices speaking at once through metal. Dorian shivered as a fully armoured Templar stepped towards him. Dorian couldn’t stop the fear in his eyes as he beheld a man no longer human. Red crystals protruded and sprouted from his back and arms, his eyes. His eyes glowed an unnatural red.

A flash of an arm and Dorian’s head was pulled up by his hair and a metal covered fist slammed into his temple. It was so fast, so efficient and so painful. What felt like nails spiked into Dorian’s brain and he could not help the tears that leaked from his eyes as his head was dropped back to the stone. The funny thing about head injuries was that even though it wasn’t near your chest, you were still winded. You still gasped for air when that first crash slammed into your head, and regaining breath seemed a lot harder after that. Dorian panted through the pain, desperately squeezing his eyes shut, clenching his teeth and trying hard not to let out an agonised groan as nausea started to creep up on him. Dorian realised belatedly, that he was not being killed. If he was going to be a blood sacrifice they did not need to keep him alive. So why did they want him? He sniffed through his suffering and entreated,  _“Please, I’m…I’m going to be sick.”_   His own voice sounded pitiful to him.

He wasn’t lying, that hit had rattled him. Shock and too many head knocks in rapid succession. But his pleas fell on deaf ears. The mages continued without paying attention to him. Head turned towards the stone he was on now, Dorian saw that he was lying on symbols. Chalk, salt, Angel’s Tears and…blood. Dorian closed his eyes as a sob threatened to escape him.

Out of everything. His capture, his abuse, nothing wounded or hurt him as much as this. Someone had died for this. He was to be part of a blood ritual. He hoped the blood was one of their own, some crazed zealot who sacrificed themselves, but no, that was unlikely. Probably some poor slave, someone apparently not to be missed, but Dorian would remember, whoever they were, Dorian would not let them be defiled. ' _I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry_.' The emotional pain compounded with physical and made him sicker, and angrier.

His rage built as the mages finalised whatever they were doing to prepare for the ritual.  How dare they! Dorian’s indignation and fury filled him, cleared his head a bit, but what could he do? The chanting had started, and the unmistakable hum of magic filled the room while the smell of metal filtered through the air. What could he do!? He rattled his chains and squirmed around feebly, trying to rub away the symbols he lay on, disrupt them somehow. Then he stopped as his stomach rumbled. He hadn’t been kidding about needing to use the bathroom. Should he?

Dorian bit his lip against a cry of pain that threatened to escape him as his torso began to twist inside. He panted through gritted teeth. Now was not the time for pride and propriety!

The chanting slowly stopped as one by one the mages filtered off.

_“What is he?”_

_“Oh Gods! Is he?”_

_“Stop him! Someone stop him!”_  Suddenly the room was in a panic as mages ran around, not knowing what to do. Not knowing how to stop the mage currently defecating all over their carefully created ritual circle, ruining the symbols.

Dorian burst out laughing.  _“I told you! I did ask you nicely!”_  The Tevinter mage allowed himself a maniacal smile as chaos reigned around him. He laughed, he could not wait to tell Bull and the others he had literally shit all over the Venatori’s plans, they would love it. Then as a final coup de grace he turned his head and vomited as nausea overcame him and he passed out once again.

 

oOo

 

Max was interrogating the mage again. While Bull was sitting near the fire sharpening and cleaning his blade. The repetitive motions and instant results were calming, also, he planned to use his axe soon. The mage had proved to be quite resistant to torture, threats, pleas and bribes. Bull wasn’t allowed near him because it appeared that the agent had a death wish and would goad Bull into killing him. So here Bull sat, staring at the flames while everyone else in the camp was doing…something.

“Here Bull. Eat” Cassandra handed him a large bowl of stew. Her voice had no room for argument, but she added, “We will be fighting soon. I know it.”

 “Thanks.” Bull put his axe aside and took the food and began shovelling the hot meal down. Was Dorian eating? Were they feeding him? How were they treating him? Was he even alive? Bull stopped suddenly and quickly pushed the thought aside and resumed eating. No, they were going on a rescue mission, not a recovery mission.

“Bull.” Cassandra’s light accented voice came to him softly. “Bull I know you are not of the same religion. But I have faith in the Maker that we will be successful. I know we will find him. We will rescue him.” Her voice became stronger as she spoke, it made Bull feel better, that someone had confidence.

“Thanks Seeker.” He nodded and continued eating in quick efficient movements. Cole was sitting across from them staring at Bull with big wobbly eyes.

“I’m sorry The Iron Bull.”

Bull tilted his head at the boy, “Why?”

“If I was a spirit still, I could feel his pain, find him. Split myself and slip through the fade shifting to where he was. I’m sorry I cannot.”

Bull sighed. “Kid, it’s not your fault. You just help me hurt the people that hurt him, that’s what I want from you.”

Cole nodded, “Yes. Good.” Then he stood.

“Wait, Cole. Is…is Dorian still alive? Can you feel that much?”

The boy stood deathly still. His head slowly tilted down, “Dark. Candles. Symbols, blood, NO. Pain! My head! My head! STOP!” Cole was now crouching, his head clutched between his hands. Bull and Cassandra had sprung up in alarm, but Cole suddenly stopped and peered up at their shocked face, “He was laughing.”

“What?” Cassandra frowned.

“Who was laughing?”

“Dorian.” Cole stood up and brushed his knees off like nothing had happened. “He was laughing.”

“Okay.” Bull elongated his word hoping Cole would elaborate. The subtlety was lost on the ex-spirit as he looked between Cassandra and Bull like he was expecting a treat. Bull sighed again, “Thanks kid. That helps a lot.”

“It does? Good!” Cole wandered off happily to Maker knows where a little jump in his step pleased as punch to have helped.

“That…did not help.” Cassandra eyed Bull as he went to sit down again. “What Cole described, it was vague.”

Bull grunted as he sat. “There was something. He’s near symbols, and if we’re talking Venatori we’re talking magic symbols. The place he is, is dark so we need a cave or somewhere underground. He’s hurt, he’s,” Bull swallowed, “in pain.” Cassandra sat next to him and placed his gloved hand on Bull’s shoulder. He took a deep breath, “We also know that we need to find him. Soon.”

“There’s something else Bull.”

“Yeah. I know.” He looked up at the clear sky, “He’s alive.”

Cassandra patted his arm and stood as Max came out of the tent currently housing the prisoner. He looked frustrated but determined as he wiped his gloves on his pants and Bull could almost see the dark stains they left on the leather, all practicality was the boss, it was too hard to get blood out of cloth.

“Right. New tactic.” He looked meaningfully at Bull and Cassandra. “I didn’t want to do this because it’s slow, I thought we could get him to talk fast but it’s not working. This also isn’t very ethical.”

“Blood magic isn’t ethical boss. Kidnapping isn’t ethical. What you were already doing probably wasn't ethical.” Bull had no accusation of judgment in his voice, just stating the facts.

“Right.” Max nodded. “We need ‘round the clock volunteers, people who can handle this and won’t get squeamish or sympathetic. We also need people we can rely on so that we can get some rest so we are prepared.”

“I am sure all of the inner circle will be willing to assist in this matter Inquisitor” Cassandra stated, then she paused, “Maybe not Cole.”

“I agree, Compassion should not be here, we will send him scouting.”

“What are we doing Boss?” Bull already had an idea.

“Sleep deprivation. It’s somewhat humane,” Even Max looked a bit dubious when he said that, “but it will feel like torture. He’ll be so tired and frustrated. I’m sure this will work.” Max reasoned but it seemed Bull and Cassandra were already in agreeance.

“I will take first watch. You two get some rest and figure out the roster.” Cassandra stood and entered the text.

Max came to sit next to Bull after spooning himself some stew, he ate efficiently like the mercenary. After a few bites and a satisfied sigh, Max turned to Bull seriously. “Bull, can you do this?”

“Yes.” He didn’t add more, there was no need. He had an instruction, he had a purpose, he could do this in Ben-Hassrath mode.

Max stared at him and apparently seeing something that satisfied him nodded. “Go get some rest, you’ll be after Cassandra with a guard so you don’t get provoked. I’ll inform the others of what’s going on.”

Bull stood, intent on following orders. Moving to his tent he paused, “Thanks, boss.”

Max smiled up at him, “We’ll get him back Bull. We will.”

In his tent, Bull lay down and sleep came quickly and as he drifted off he hoped he wished.  _Stay strong Kadan. We’re coming._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two done. Thank you for reading this and for the people who have left kudos <3 I hope you continue to enjoy this work =D


	3. Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The interrogation works and the inner circle prepare to rescue their Tevinter mage and Bull is preparing to rescue something much more important, but the ritual has been carried out. What does this mean for Dorian?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Urgh, the formatting of this thing does my head in. Thanks in advance for reading! Only a short chapter this time \o/

This time when Dorian awoke it was to excruciating agony. His mind quickly jolting from sleep as his chest ruptured with sharp shooting pain. Vaguely he heard murmuring of a chant, and he could see the blurry figured of the Venatori surrounding him. He gasped as everything inside him cramped at once, the flow of blood magic coursing through him, burning his vein and scorching his insides. He felt it everywhere. The blood magic was inside him, in his own blood, running though him as sweat poured from his body.

He couldn’t help the scream that ripped from him as his body arched and then slammed down again in some twisted attempt to alleviate some pain. He pulled his chains frantically the harsh metal biting and cutting into his skin. His neck was collared down too as he felt the heavy weight of the metal against his throat, he moved against it and twisted his neck. Sharp searing spikes of pain sprang up his neck as he injured himself, the nerves protesting such movement.

Tears streamed continuously now down his face and as he screamed himself horse he realised that he was gagged, a leather bit pushing his tongue down his teeth clenching into a hard, fur-tasting strap. He couldn’t concentrate, he couldn’t hear what was being done, not the words of the chant, nor the symbols being drawn in the air. All he knew was pain, blinding, searing and joint-crushing. _Amatus, where are you??_

Finally, his mind could no longer take it and mercifully put Dorian back to sleep in the form of unconsciousness.

 

oOo

 

“P-Please! The c-c-camp! The edge t-to the south w-w-west! A statue!!”

“How far south?”

“Th-three, f-f-f-four d-d-days ride. P-please sleep!”

Max stared at the mage who was now crying hysterically as he slammed the wooden spoon against the pan next to his prisoner’s ear again. The mage jumped and wept again, his teeth chattering violently as he swayed to and fro, his body demanding sleep but Max not allowing it.

“Cullen!” The blonde man appeared, a serious look on his handsome face. “Bring me a map of this area.”

The Commander clicked his heels efficiently then strode out at a fast clip. Max turned back to the Venatori.

“Why did you take Dorian?” He tapped the mage on the head with the spoon and then slapped his check annoyingly with it. The mage flinched away every time and wept harder when his cheek was lightly abused. He shook his head in denial, then it rolled around his shoulders before Max slammed the pot again.

“You don’t know?”

“N-no. Nononono” More head shaking.

“You don’t know the plans?”

Cullen returned with the map and Bull. He quickly got a small table and set it before the mage then spread the map on it. He stepped back and crossed his arms waiting patiently.

Max hit the pan continuously again next to the mage’s ear, “Hey! Wakey wakey!” _CLANGCLANGCLANGCLANG_ “No sleeping! Still more work to do.”

“Nnnooooo.” The mage was listing now, only his restraints holding him up.

“Look,” Max gripped the mages head and pointed it to the map, “here is the map of the place.” He then used the end of his wooden spoon to point to a general area of where he thought the mage confessed their camp was.

“Is the camp here?” He tapped the map continuously on one spot as the mage shook his head. This continued with a few more pot clangs before the mage was finally able to nod at the location the spoon pointed to.

Max straightened. “Right. Cullen, begin preparations, we’re riding hard and fast, all the inner circle is to come. Bull, you go help him.” It hadn’t escaped Max that the large man had been inching closer to the prisoner.

“What are you going to do Boss?” Bull inquired quietly.

“I’m going to get more information from our guest. After all, we can’t just run in there blindly. This is an organised rescue, not a suicide run. I will get us everything we need for success.”

Bull stared at the Inquisitor and admired his calm and collected manner. Bull realised that he missed his _Kadan_ , but Dorian was also one of Max’s closest friends and the man was feeling the snippy mage’s absence just as keenly as he. The two were as close to brothers as one could be without being blood, losing Dorian was not an option. Bull had once found them curled around each other in a small puppy pile, napping in the afternoon sun surrounded by books and papers.

He had been asked to fetch the Inquisitor because he was late for a meeting when he found the two, blissfully unaware they were crushing important political documents in their sleep. And when he woke them, there is no shame for either. Max had sat up and groaned something impolite about meetings and Dorian had simply rolled over and tried to sleepily coax Bull onto the bed in order to nap with him. It had been a strange, heart-warming episode but from that Bull had learned that Max was taken care of with Dorian around and Dorian was allowed to be the man he really wanted to be with Max. It was something that Bull aspired to, he didn’t think he had it quite yet.

“Got it.” Bull stated simply then turned and marched from the tent. As the tent flaps closed behind him an agonised frustrated scream echoed through the camp and ended in a hysterical broken sob.

“We got the Altus’ location then Chief?” Krem fell into step next to Bull, his strides long to not hinder the larger man’s own determined strafe. Bull took a moment to appreciate Krem’s innate emotional intelligence. He knew when to joke and when it was business time.

“Yep. Tell the boys we’re moving out soon. Pack light, start with essentials we’ll be moving quickly, apparently we’ve got three days ride ahead of us.” That stopped Krem, the shorter man faltering.

“Three days,” a pregnant pause, “Chief.” Krem’s voice was uncertain.

“We ride. This is a rescue, not a recovery.” Bull told himself just as much as he told Krem. He needed it to be.

Krem nodded briskly before quickly moving past Bull to start barking orders at the Chargers that were around to get ready to move. Bull moved to his own tent but when he was inside he stopped. He had been all ready to start packing his things, but as he looked at the tent he saw Dorian’s belongings neatly stacked up around him.

He sat down next to Dorian’s pack of clothes and lifted a robe up, bring it to his nose and inhaled deeply. Incense, subtle oils and Dorian. He clenched the robe in his fists for a moment before he remembered that his _Kadan_ wouldn’t appreciate any rips or creases in his finery.

But Bull stared around him. They were rescuing Dorian, so he should bring Dorian things to make him happy. Energised by the thought he unceremoniously tipped the pack out and tumbled all of Dorian’s clothes out onto his bedroll. He picked out what felt like Dorian’s softest most comfortable robes, one without all those unnecessary but certainly flattering buckles and clasps. Clean smalls and another pair of boots. He’d oil them for him when they inevitably had to break for a rest during travelling. He packed Dorian’s one set of “lounging clothes” as the mage had called them, he wore them when he practised his dancing late in the evening when he thought no one was watching. Bull was sure he’d want these.

Bull then moved to Dorian’s small portable vanity. He looked at all the little bottles and jars, mocking him with their owner’s absence. He stretched a finger out and gently stroked one of the delicate looking containers. It wasn’t an essential…but.

The cosmetic box wasn’t that big, Bull could take the whole thing without it being a hindrance. He just hoped the little bottles wouldn’t break on the journey, after all, he didn’t know how to take care of them. Perhaps Ma’am could take them? Would she? Or would she scoff at the idea? Bull decided there was no harm in asking. So, he gathered up the multi-tiered little wooden box carefully and carried it out of the tent.

Vivienne was not far, the inner circle tended to stay close together as a force of habit while travelling. He approached her as she was directing some poor recruit as to the proper procedure for preparing for light but fast travel.

“Do see that the horses are well watered _now_ not later. Later will be too late, honestly, do you think effective travel is stopping to let the horses drink every few hills? No? Good. Now run along.” She dismissed the soldier with a practised flick of her hand. She turned to Bull. “Well now. We will soon be off to rescue your illustrious paramour. I’m sure you are pleased about this?” She noticed the box, “What have we here?”

Bull shuffled awkwardly under Vivienne’s intense stare, it wasn’t unkind, just carefully blank and unceasing. “I’ve brought Dorian’s things…Ma’am.”

“I can see that Iron Bull.” She sounded like she was speaking to a child.

Bull held out the box to show her, “I want to bring it to him, but,” he stopped and pulled the box closer to his chest again, staring at the contents, the little jars rattled at the movement and wonderful tinkling sounds filled the small space between them as crystals bumped gently against each other, “I’m worried I’ll break them.” He finished lamely.

Vivienne was silent as the whole camp around them bustled with life. Bull felt like a bug under a looking glass, she was assessing him and he hoped she wouldn’t ask why he wanted to bring Dorian’s vanity. He started a bit when her cool hand touched one of his clasping the box.

“A wonderful idea darling.” Bull looked up at the sincere, confident tone, but Vivienne was looking carefully down at the contents of the box. “Our Tevinter mage will appreciate this very much.”

She started quickly but efficiently putting the jars into compartments or laying down the taller ones, picking some up and checking the contents and lid before putting them down again. She did it with the grace and speed that Bull had no hope of emulating, someone who knew their own way around a vanity like she knew she wouldn’t accidentally crush one of the little bottles in her grip. She snapped the mirrored lid closed and secured a latch.

“Now you needn’t worry about anything breaking darling. Dorian has cast a barrier on this whole unit, but if you are still concerned, I will carry the box myself.” Bull opened his mouth to protest but Vivienne continued, “along with my own.”

That quieted the Bull. If she was carrying her own, even if only for his benefit, then she could take care of this one. He nodded and handed the box over to her capable, well-manicured hands.

“Thank you, Ma’am.”

“Think nothing of it. Now go and pack, you don’t want to hold us up.” She spun and entered her tent. Bull bowed slightly to her retreating form before all but sprinting the short way back to his own tent to resume packing.

Bull ended up packing a few of Dorian’s robes, his bed-roll and blanket, 2 of the books he was currently reading and some mage supplies that Bull wasn’t even sure what they did. Everything was packed in a neat, efficient manner when Krem lifted the tent flap.

“Oi Chief I was thinking,” he stepped into the tent, “we should bring some of the Altus’ things.” He stopped as Bull bent down to pick up the saddlebags packed with the items he had chosen.

“Right. You’ve done it then? I’ll put it on my mount.” Krem went to reach for the bags but Bull pulled them away, his hands tightening on the straps and bringing the bags closer to his body to hug them. Krem was having none of it and put his fists on his hips. “You’ll want to ride fast, get there the fastest. You can’t put that on your mount and expect the poor thing to perform the way you want. Give it to me or put it on the wagon.” Krem held his hand out expectantly, tapping his foot.

Bull relented, knowing his Lieutenant was right, “Put it on the wagon but make sure we know it’s Dorian’s. I don’t want it going missing.”

“Got it.” Krem scooped up the bags, slung them over his shoulder and jogged out of the tent.

Bull looked around the tent and cracked his knuckles. Time to pack and go rescue his heart.


	4. Tinted Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains a non-graphic rape scene, is it graphic? I'm not sure I didn't think it was. It focuses much more on how Dorian feels rather than the act, but skip if you need to.

Dorian came to slowly and found he was alone in the darkness. He took stock of himself, testing parts of his movement and found himself unreasonably weak. The chains still binding him felt like weights. His throat dry and scratchy, it hurt to breathe. His wrists felt raw and stung, he must have rubbed the skin away in his thrashing. Worst of all was his torso. It felt completely bruised, throbbing in pain with every beat of his heart. It hurt to shift, to move.

He felt like the one-time Bull had taken him to ‘exercise’ in weight training, lifting heavy things and putting them down again was apparently good for you. Well, Dorian wasn’t pleased with it two days after when every slight shift in movement ached. Bull had laughed thrown a banana at him and said something about muscle tearing and healing so Dorian had eaten the banana then conjured a small snowstorm to follow Bull around for an hour. It was worth it.

Dorian’s eyes watered. He wanted Bull. He wanted Max. He wanted the entire annoying inner circle around him, poking fun, insulting, being together. He was giving into despair when he sniffed and took as deep a breath as he could. Maker, it hurt to breathe to even blink.

Suddenly in the room, there was movement and the tell-tale shift of armour. Dorian peered down his body at the darkened corner where metal was glinting in the candles. It was the Red Templar from before, the one with many voices, the one who had hit him. The one covered in Red Lyrium crystals.

Dorian stared, not knowing what to do or say for once, just stared into those dead glowing red eyes. In the helmet’s visor, he could see the off pallor of his skin and the delicate flesh around his eyes was filled with the bluish grey hue of destroyed veins. It was horrific and Dorian squirmed. He tried to summon fire around him then to trap the other man in lightning to no avail. He felt a strange pressure around him, like invisible cotton soaked in salt-water, pressing around him and the veil, hindering his access to it. The Templar then this time, no drugs.

The Templar stepped forward with no word only strict efficiency as he unclipped one of Dorian’s legs but held fast to the chain. He pulled and dragged as Dorian hissed in pain as the metal cut deep into his abused flesh. He tried to resist, but the stinging of his skin made his attempts half-hearted. Soon his leg was crossed over his other and chained back down.

“ _What are you doing_?” Dorian rasped, his voice cracking and hoarse, only a whisper. He wasn’t really expecting an answer as he watched the Templar move around the circle to unlatch an arm chain and pull it to another hook across the circle. Dorian was still confused and had to breathe carefully as his chest was compressed from being on his side. It hurt so much.

When his other arm was released and the Templar started moving it to swap places where the other chain had been, Dorian knew. He _knew_ what was coming. He desperately held the chain in his hands to stop the stinging of the cuff on his wrist and yanked as hard as he could. The Templar in surprise and shock stumbled and fell onto the circle, bringing his hand out to catch himself. Dorian quickly brought the cuff of his free hand down as hard as he could on the Templar’s head and the clang of metal rang through the room. Dorian clenched his teeth against the pain, panted heavily. He couldn’t even see straight everything hurt so much.

With his other hand chained and useless, he tried to loop his prisoner chain around the Templar’s neck. Loop, loop, loop pull! But there wasn’t enough tension on the other end. Dorian was already twisted around like some demented princess sitting on her chaise so he couldn’t hold the other end. He just tried to keep looping ignoring the crystals formed all over the other man. The Templar gasped and grappled with the chain at his neck at first scrambling to try and rip it away from his throat.

 _Yes!_ Dorian’s mirth increased. It was working!

Then the Templar’s training kicked in. He abandoned struggling with the chain. Pulled his fist back and slammed it hard into Dorian’s stomach. Dorian screamed and let go of the chain, doubling over to clutch at his stomach with one hand which was soon yanked away as the Templar regained control and chained him again. Dorian sobbed great breaths as he tried to control his agony, tried to will it away, he growled angrily through clenched teeth. He couldn’t even resist when his other leg was moved and chained into its new place.

Dorian supposed he was grateful for being in pain all over. Comparatively the Templar forcing himself into Dorian’s body was painful, but the agony of his stomach was distracting. He was reasoning, rationalising, attempting to cope with what was happening. He was so angry, furious that he couldn’t defend himself. He was a strong and fit man who was not a waif-like mage that was skinny, he worked hard for his strength and it wasn’t just for show, and yet he was being over-powered. He was the legacy of careful breeding, the result of generations of powerful mages all mixed together and a fucking Templar was blocking that legacy and violating him. Dorian gritted his teeth as the Templar thrust silently and unrelentingly into him, he tried constantly to get away, but the sharp grip on his hips held him still and there was nowhere for him to go and the chains had no give.

 _Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up!_ Dorian chanted in his head wishing it was over with. _I will burn you! I will fucking kill you!_ But soon Dorian realised there was no faltering in the Templar’s movements. _Maker he means to…_ Dorian struggled more as the speed of the Templar’s movement increased. _Maker what if he infects me what if he’s infectious! I don’t want to grow red crystals!_ Terror ripped through him and he frantically pulled himself away with his own restraints, but the Templar slammed on top of him, squashing him to the altar and crushing his ribs. Dorian screamed from the heat of pain as it ripped through him and felt the shuddering form of the Templar as he came inside him.

Soon all Dorian could hear were his own breaths. He didn’t cry out loud, he wouldn’t give them that, but tears leaked out his eyes. Whether it was from pain or emotion he didn’t know it was confusing, both those things were mixing together so much he thought himself going mad.  He flinched as the Templar removed himself from him, then all but stood and walked out of the room. Dorian closed his eyes trying to ignore the trickle of fluid between his legs.

He was angry, furious, his mid was a spiralling vortex of hatred and all he wanted was to see Bull smiling at him. To have all that warm grey skin wrapped around him and that deep voice rumbling terrible puns into his ear. He wanted to kill. He wanted to scream at no one and everyone. He wanted to be held and treated lovingly. He wanted to stop hurting.

“ _Amatus_.” The whisper was lost in the silence of the room.


	5. An Interlude: Do Dragons Have Pink Tongues?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian invents something inspired by fooling around with Bull and Bull flinging randon suggestions at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because the last chapter was so short, I decided to upload this one too. 
> 
> This sits way before Dorian is captured and can be considered character building. It's contents will be mentioned in later chapters ^_^
> 
> This little story was inspired by Bull's love tarot card, his tongue always seemed way too cute to me in the picture. I loved it (obviously).

Dorian was on his back, head propped up by many pillows gazing down his naked body at The Iron Bull, who was currently lying between his spread legs pulling back the skin on Dorian’s cock and sucking at the head with lewd slurps just because it both riled and turned Dorian on.

His fingers were firmly massaging the hard flesh behind his balls and every so often Bull would drop down to suck one or both of them into his mouth, wetting and rolling them with his tongue before dragging it back up the length of Dorian’s cock to trace at the crown.

It was during one of those particularly leisurely licks that the thought suddenly popped into Dorian’s head: Bull’s tongue was cute. It was something that had never occurred to him before. It was a healthy bright pink flesh colour and was nearly always hidden, though Bull wasn’t a child and had probably stopped sticking his tongue out at people in response to annoyance a long time ago (now if only Sera could learn that). His tongue was smooth and thick, the tip perhaps a little meatier than a human’s which gave it this nice rounded shape that Dorian supposed was the reason why he thought it was cute.

Then unbidden another thought came to him. Why was Bull’s tongue like that? Granted Qunari were a different race, but they did have very different biology to humans, he had never heard of humans growing horns through natural means, nor growing to the size that some of the Qunari did.  

He stared at Bull again, at the tongue that was poking and sliding through his slit. Tilted his head and blurted, “What colour are dragon tongues?”

Bull, ever used to bedding an intellectual man like Dorian where suddenly these questions would pop up at what Bull thought were rather inconvenient times, simply kissed the head of Dorian’s cock and shrugged, “I don’t know. Whenever we’ve fought one I’ve been more focused on not getting close to that part of them. I can tell you their claws are different colours though.” As he spoke he continued to slowly drag his fist up and down Dorian’s shaft, keeping the man interested.

Dorian sighed, “Yes, but aren’t the Qunari part dragon? That’s where your horns are from, I’m curious as to whether dragons have tongues like you. Do dragons have pink tongues?”

Bull perked up and gave an insufferable smirk, “Want a dragon to suck you off? Now, who’s got a fetish?”

Dorian yanked at Bull’s horn, “That is not what I meant. I was merely enquiring as to how much physiology the Qunari share with their reptilian predecessors.”

“Hey, when you put it like that you make us sound like animals.” Bull tugged down on Dorian’s cock in protest.

“Do not pretend that you do not hold that fact as a point of pride, whether it is a magical or biological link that your people have to dragons it is something amazing.” And just like that, with his natural love of anything magical and academically intriguing, Dorian made Bull feel like the strongest man in the world. “And besides,” he continued, “My ancestors? Monkey! Can you imagine? Those dirty creatures that fling shit and eat each other in territory disputes, hmmm not much has changed has it? But honestly I think I would rather something as terrifying and magically charged as dragons.”

Bull laughed, giving up on keeping Dorian interested in their little late-afternoon tryst and he moved up to lie between the man’s legs, his chin resting on the man’s chest and one hand lazily playing with an available nipple. “I thought your people liked monkeys.”

Dorian made a noise that was both haughty and utterly disgusted at the same time. “There are many things that my countrymen are to be faulted for, and the monkey being our national animal is one of them. I shall stick to my house’s animals the snake and peacock, thank you all the same.”

Bull hummed, rolling the nub of flesh gently under the pads of his fingers. “Mmm, they do suit you. A snake is all sleek muscle, quick, deadly and snappy, and the peacock is all flashy and proud. Your family chose well.” Bull paused a moment, “You know sometimes I wish I didn’t have my horns…”

That startled Dorian so much that Bull felt a real jolt of surprise, “What! Whatever for? That is stupid!” It went to show how much Dorian himself liked the warrior’s horns if his voice was filled with horror.

Bull laughed and planted a kiss on Dorian’s sternum, “Not always and not often. Just sometimes, like now. I wish I could put my ear to your chest. You always look so comfy when you do it to me. I can’t do that.” Instead Bull flattened his face into Dorian’s skin to emphasise his point. He felt a ringed hand come up and cup the back of his head, the nails gently scratching the side of his skull behind his ear.

“Oh. I see. It is rather nice I will not deny that.” Dorian’s voice was soft, and he continued petting and stroking Bull’s shaved head. They stayed like that a while, both thinking about different things until Bull lifted his head up and laughed at the impression the horn growths on his forehead had left on Dorian’s skin. He leaned up on his elbows and bowed down to kiss Dorian who was still an age away.

“May I see your tongue _Amatus_?” His fingers were playing with Bull’s lips as he asked.

Bull shrugged, “Eh, sure.” And he stuck his tongue out.

Dorian traced his tongue with just one finger, gently stroking it around the edges to the tip and Bull couldn’t help but give him a little lick. Dorian smiled at that. “It really is a very nice tongue. Perhaps even a little smoother and slicker than a human’s. The colour really is very pink.” Then Dorian leaned up to suck just the tip of Bull’s tongue with his lips ending it with a soft kiss before lying back down. “I really do wonder if dragons have pink tongues.”

“Why don’t you ask Fredric? I’m sure he’d be happy to tell you.”

At that Dorian all but flopped, “But I am so wonderfully comfortable here. If I were to ask I would have to get redressed, which is not an easy task, wander all the way down to the gardens, find him, ask one question then have to listen to a lecture when I only wanted one answer.” Dorian rolled into the pillows as much as Bull’s bulk allowed him to in protest of what he saw as a hardship.

He groaned, “I wish there were a book, or something, that I could open, ask my simple question and then have the answer immediately while I was still naked, in bed and not presentable to anyone. Why is there no such thing?” Dorian sounded put out and indignant with lazy fury.

Bull kissed the ear in front of him, “Well, why don’t you make it?”

Dorian stilled from his pillow burrowing and slowly turned to face Bull, “What?”

Bull kissed him again, “I said, ‘why don’t you make this book you want?’ Sounds pretty convenient to me and if any magical genius could do it, it would be you, you’re certainly tenacious enough.”

Dorian stared at him.

“ _Kadan?_ ” Bull was worried that he might have accidentally insulted the man by calling him tenacious.

“How would I even start that? What do you mean? Do you know how much work that would be to even develop a prototype of something like that?” Dorian was speaking fast and faster getting louder and starting to sound angry, but Bull knew it just meant that his curiosity was stirred.

“I imagine it would be very difficult. I know nothing about magic, but I figure your book would have to be special, with certain,” Bull wriggled his fingers around in the air, “magical bullshit that other books didn’t have.”

“But where would my book get its answers from?” Dorian sat up quickly, almost head-butting the Bull in his haste. Bull let him move and scratched his head. He really wasn’t any good at magical theory and he had just kind of thrown the suggestion out there without thinking.

“Uh, other books?” He offered uselessly, he knew Dorian would have known that, but the man was thinking of easy problems to stop himself from becoming excited.

“Yes, I know that.” Dorian snapped. “But how would that information get into my book?”

Bull moved to sit beside Dorian while the mage starred almost angrily up at him. “Well, I figure it’s like messenger ravens. They go through the air, they’re physical, there’s nothing to say that magic can’t do the same. You chain ice from you to a target or put glyphs under them, just because you can’t see the link doesn’t mean it can’t exist.”

Dorian stared at Bull with wide eyes. Bull leaned back against the headboard, linking his hands over his belly, “I don’t know how all that magic stuff works, don’t want to know, but I’m sure you do. You could link two books together; one blank and one filled with information and you’d know how to get the information.”

“There are so many security risks to that.” Dorian’s voice was a whisper.

“Then make it safe.” Bull stated simply, “I can help you with security, I know all the kinds of devious stuff I would try to use your book for. I could tell you so that you could guard against it.”

“That…that’s.” Dorian looked lost, but Bull could almost see the energy thrumming beneath his skin. He would explode soon if he didn’t stop thinking about it.

Bull stood from the bed and started to pull his pants on. Outside the afternoon sun had started to go down and the rest of Skyhold was starting to wind down for the day. “Let’s hit the bath’s big guy. I’m in the mood for lots of water.”

“Hmm? Yes.” Dorian responded automatically and got up and started to dress still lost in thought. He stayed like that through the baths (Bull didn’t even know if he washed properly), through dinner (which consisted of poking potatoes around and stabbing uselessly at meat) and through the evening drinking session (which was staring into the depths of an ale mug like it held all the secrets of the universe), everything was automatic, poor automatic, but he still went through the motions. Bull managed to coax him out of his stupor for a mutual hand job long enough before the mage simply collapsed into bed and fell asleep.

It was later in the night that Bull felt the bed shift and Dorian moving around quickly but quietly, his bare feet padding around the room as he tried to find his clothes. The sound of buckles and sweeps of cloth were gentle noises in the clear night. The backs of fingers stroked down Bull’s unshaven cheek and then the door was opened and quickly but gently closed. In the darkness Bull opened his eye and grinned at the sound Dorian’s boots made against the tavern’s floors. He was running, he even jumped a few steps. He categorised the sounds; tavern door flung open then slammed, a few seconds silence, then the crunch of boots on grass and rock.

Bull sat up and stretched, then went to his window to watch the white cloaked figure that was Dorian pelt across the courtyard into the Great Hall. He waited, staring at the library window. Sure enough, a few moments later, candlelight blazed into existence as the beautiful, handsome mage stood there, staring at the bookshelves with a determined grin that would have brought greater men than he down to their knees.

“Good luck _Kadan._ ” Bull smiled as he whispered into the night, then turned back to bed.

 

oOo

 

It was weeks later when Dorian came running to him during a training session but stopped himself from barging right in. Instead, he hovered at the edges looking in and pacing. The energy he was exuding was so obvious that all the Chargers noticed. Krem paused after being repelled by Bull and nodded towards the agitated mage.

“Better go see what the Altus wants. They don’t like being made to wait.” He deadpanned while leaning on his maul. Bull turned and didn’t even have the chance to walk over when Dorian was right there.

He was smiling, his face flushed from running and his hair was out of place. There was a manic sort of glee in his eyes. Bull thought he looked amazing and – though Dorian would hate to hear it – cute.

“Bull! Bull look at this!” He thrust a piece of paper at Bull and once the warrior had taken it began rummaging through his robes. Bull turned the paper over, there was nothing on it. Krem had moved to his side and raised an eyebrow at the blank piece of paper.

“Wha…?” Bull hushed him, shaking his head slightly. Suddenly Dorian produced a wooden quill, a small writing board and a glowing bottle of ink.

“Here, here! Take this!” He shoved the items at Bull, taking the man’s axe out of his hands. Bull noticed that Dorian didn’t even seem to realise the weight of the axe as he stared at the paper excitedly.

Bull, with careful slowness (to annoy the mage mostly, because an annoyed but excited Dorian was a very cute Dorian) he placed the paper on the board then looked at the ink bottle in his hands, unable to open it since his hands were full.

“Here chief.” Krem took the bottle from him and opened it, holding the ink out for Bull to dip the nib in. He did so, and he could see blue light shimmering through the black ink like it was a separate liquid. He sniffed at it.

“Lyrium infused ink. Completely harmless if you don’t drink it, well, you wouldn’t want to drink it as a warrior, but I don’t imagine that you would want black teeth, would you? Though that was a fashion in Tevinter for some time don’t ask me why.” Dorian was rambling and still looking at the page.

He tapped a finger on it. “Write: ‘What colour are dragon tongues?’ And underline ‘colour’, ‘dragon’ and ‘tongues,’”

“Anywhere?”

“Yes, anywhere on the page.”

Bull poised the quill and carefully wrote what Dorian had instructed. He heard muttering beside him.

“What wrong with your Altus?” Krem’s voice was serious.

Bull just chuckled, “He’s holding back criticism of my penmanship.” With no flourish, he finished the question mark. Nothing happened.

“Okay, now draw this mark next to your question.” Dorian held up another piece of paper that had a circle with a square inside it.

“How big?” That question seemed to stump Dorian and he frowned at the page.

He answered slowly, “I don’t think it matters, but one must want to conserve ink, so small will do.” He nodded, confidence growing in his answer.

Bull followed the instruction, careful to draw the symbol just as Dorian had, once the final line was drawn, the ink on the page shimmered, soft blue light ebbing from left to right, then the symbol lit up and the ink sank into the page seemingly disappearing.

“What’s this? New spy equipment?” Krem sounded impressed.

“No nothing of the sort, but an astute guess.” Dorian too sounded impressed. They waited only a few seconds when Bull saw words beginning to form on the page.

_Dragons of different species and magical abilities have different physiology. I have observed in the field an array of differences in them; horn type and placement, scale colouring and appetites, even tongue colour will change from different dragon species. The dragon is a fascinating creature long…_

Bull didn’t read the rest of it, it covered the page, but turned the sheet over and there on the back was a pigment drawing of a dragon with a blue tongue and yes, a dragon with a pink tongue. He smiled.

“Look!” Dorian beamed, “It’s your distant relative.” He tapped his finger on the pink tongued dragon. Dorian was staring up at him and Bull wondered if those glittering eyes were once turned towards another man who sat in a seat above a stadium watching critically, a man who took those shining eyes and carelessly shoved the light out of them.

Carefully Bull handed the paper and board to Krem who was only too happy to examine the magical artefact and he swept Dorian up into a hug picking him up off the ground and shaking him from side to side.

“You did it _Kadan!”_ He laughed, still shaking the mage. Dorian was so caught up in the excitement that he laughed too, and Bull felt his hands come up to hold his sides and Dorian’s rest his head against his chest despite the shaking. He leaned down to Dorian’s ear, “Told you, you could do it.”

The spell was broken but its effects lingered. Dorian stifled his laughter and patted Bull’s arm as he was set down again. He straightened his robe as he coughed, looking embarrassed but he covered it with annoyance and self-depreciation, “Yes, well. It’s only a prototype, and still needs a lot of work. This was only a page and a dedicated piece of writing to answer the question and not a whole academic journal. I must work on that. As you can see, Fredric took liberties when I asked him to write some of his work on some special vellum, I really did just ask him to answer the question of, ‘What colour are dragon tongues?’ It seems I excited him too much. And your handwriting, what happens if someone has barely legible writing and my spell can’t translate it? What do I do then? There’s still a lot of work to do.”

“Doesn’t matter. This is a huge first step. You’ve done something amazing, I can tell, and this is on top of your finding Corypheus’ real name. This is great.” Bull leant down to briefly kiss Dorian’s forehead that housed his brilliant brain, “You’re amazing.”

“Yes. Well.” Dorian flushed from the praise and tried not to look too pleased. “I’ll need the prototype back. There’s still lots to do. I just,” he paused suddenly shy, “I wished to show you. I’m glad I did.” He reached out and retrieved the items, carefully replacing them back into his robes. Then he reached out and squeezed Bull’s wrist before nodding at Krem and jogging away.

“What was that about? What was the paper?” Krem was looking at the back of Dorian’s retreating figure.

Bull swung his axe up and rested the handle on his shoulder. “You’ve just witnessed history Krem, well, another part of it.”

Krem looked up at Bull, eyebrow raised in question. Bull rubbed his mouth to try and stop grinning, “Dorian’s just invented something that is going to change Thedas forever. All without ‘Vint blood magic.” Krem snorted. Once Dorian’s form was out of sight he turned, “Come on, I’ll tell you the whole story, dirty sex bits included.”

“I don’t want to hear those parts.” Krem mumbled, but followed anyway, interested to hear how another one of their own was about to make history.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's right! Dorian is inventing Thedas' 'internet'! I have no idea what to call it. Booklinks? The Magically Linked Academic Articles of Thedas? Thinternet? ARRRGGG. I HATE naming things -_- Suggestions MORE than welcome.


	6. Together Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rescue time!

Back in his cell, Dorian could barely move. He had no idea how long he had been captive and no idea how long ago he had been raped. He sighed miserably as he thought of that word and what had happened. His rage had given way to despair and humiliation, that he, a strong male had not been able to do anything about his attack, all the tools for his defence cruelly stripped away from him leaving him helpless. It mortified him and the more he allowed himself to dwell on these thoughts the angrier he became at himself. He decided not to think about it. If there was a talent he had down to perfection it was avoidance.

Casting his eyes around his cell a glint of light against a bottle caught his attention. Feebly reaching for it, fingers trembling, he picked up the small vial. It was light, Dorian knew, but he was so weak it felt like he was carrying one of Bull’s training axes.

Shifting around painfully, he manoeuvred gingerly so he could pop the cork off the bottle and sniff it. Elfroot apparently. It looked like it too, the lovely green liquid shimmering slightly in the bit of light the torches outside his cell cast. It was so tempting. He was in so much pain. Instead, he flung the bottle against the far wall, the glass shattering with a pleasing melodious crack. He did _not_ trust anything here. He wouldn’t be that stupid.

He lay still as a rock on his back with his arms at his side in chains and wished desperately for his magic to return. He drifted in and out of sleep, his reality mixing with his dreams that were thankfully not filled with demons offering him ways to escape if only they would let him occupy his body, just for a while.

Eventually, during his drifting, he heard the far-off sounds of battle, screams and metal clashing. The tell-tale rumbling roar of fire spells. At first, he thought he was simply dreaming again, but the sounds weren’t going away if anything they were getting closer!

Hope, that wonderful bubble of warmth filled him from his stomach to his chest as he struggled unsuccessfully to sit up. He was still weak and in pain and his efforts saw him sweating and panting from exertion. He cursed as he lay back down hoping that this was a rescue if it wasn’t then he was screwed. No magic, no armour and chained to a wall in a locked cell, he was a sitting duck if the attackers were slavers. So, he remained silent as he watched and peered carefully into the room his cell was built into.

His mind was fuzzy, and he still couldn’t see properly. Perhaps he was imagining things? Was it hope turning against him in a moment of despair? Or worse, a demon sniffing out his weakness coming into his mind to offer him freedom in exchange for his imprisonment. Dorian wanted to cry with frustration. If it was a demon he didn’t think he had the strength of mind to ward it off, not with all the hits to his head and the constant cotton wool feeling that was pushing against his brain. He tried to quieten himself, slowing the rising panic by focusing on something else that wasn’t the ever-building pain in his head.

Then he heard it. That familiar roar of Bull in his Rampage. Never before had Dorian heard something quite so wonderful, Bull’s primal scream sounded like the all the spirits of the fade were singing just for him. He sounded far away, but there was no mistaking it even through the fog of his brain he could recognise it; it was the rhythmic clang of Bull’s fighting style. One clang, two clang, a pause for a lead up then a third crushing blow of metal against metal as he fished off his foe. Another roar then a shoulder charge as he flings an attacker into the air only to bring them pack forcibly down with an overhead strike. Bull was in his prison and coming for him.

Dorian, against all pain, struggled to sit himself up but still couldn’t. He lay down and instead tried to yell. “Bull!” His cry was nowhere near as loud as he wanted is. His throat was already raw from his screams and he sounded like he’d just drank a gallon of Bull’s awful Maraas-Lok then tried to swallow sand after.

He cleared his throat and tried again, “Bull!” A coughing fit followed his cry and each convulsion sent searing pain through his chest and spikes of throbbing heat rushing through his head. Dorian curled up and hugged himself. Looks like yelling was out of the question.

“Dorian?!” The mage closed his eyes frustrated that he couldn’t answer that desperate call.

 

oOo

 

Bull had heard it. He knew he had. In his blood-fuelled haze, he had heard Dorian calling him. His wounds sang as he powered through Templar and mage, Max was fighting swiftly around him and Vivienne hanging back to finish off breathers and provide barriers while casting glyphs ahead of them to slow the oncoming attackers. The others were around, in other tunnels, they had split up to cover more ground.

The trip here had been excruciating for Bull, it felt too slow and yet he knew they were travelling fast. When they had to stop for breaks he couldn’t help being annoyed and shitty at people. He wanted to move, every minute they reasonably sat around was more time Dorian was in danger. But, at the same time he knew they needed rest, and a good thing too. This Venatori cell was bigger than anything they had yet encountered.

They were, thanks to Max’s perseverance, well informed of the numbers, layout and what to expect, and it was this that helped Bull from going insane. His rational mind told him that to fight and rescue Dorian successfully he needed to rest. He was not going to risk the mage’s life because he was impatient and tired.

They had approached the camp in the cover of night, the Venatori camp looking suspiciously small, just one campfire, a wagon, two tents and a few mages milling around. There was nothing to suggest that there was more to the camp but what appeared. The camp was bracketed against a canyon wall and it was there that the opening to the network of tombs was located. They made plans as the camp slept and struck in the early morning light taking the watch camp by surprise, their scouts already dealt with by Max who, with Cole, had snuck through the darkness to silence any alarms that might sound.

They’d sent throat cutters in first, silent killers who stuck to the shadows and picked off sleeping mages and Templars before they reached a point where no amount of sneaking around would be possible. They’d regrouped outside the camp and prepared for a surprise attack. Even though the group had managed to pick off quite a few cultists, their number still ranged between two to three hundred, certainly nothing to sneeze at. The Inquisition had taken just a few numbers below that, but with their skill and constant practice with battles, the odds were clearly in their favour.

Bull strained his ears, the points almost flicking with anxiousness to hear that velvet voice again as he split a mages head in half. He had no time to worry about the mess he was making. “Did you all hear that?!” Bull called over the sounds of battle and took off towards where he thought the Dorian’s came from. Max grunted as he spun low, sweeping a Templar off his feet before lunging like a frog, his twin daggers raised to sink them into the other man’s vulnerable throat. He yanked the daggers out, flicking blood off them as he sprinted after the surprisingly fast Qunari.

“Bull!” They all skidded to a halt, the tunnels blessedly empty with most of the fighting at the entrance. They strained to hear and heard coughing.

“He’s close.” Max pressed a hand against the smooth cold wall of the tunnel, smearing someone’s blood on it. “Let’s head through quietly, we might hear something.”

They moved on listening and checking rooms when they came to a fork. “How fucking predictable!” Bull kicked at a no-doubt antique vase and shattered it.

“Shhh.” Max hissed, he gave a side-long glance at Bull, “Stop. Listen.”

They did, and they heard the constant and clearly intentional rattling of…chains? One, two a pause three. One, two a pause three. It wasn’t strong, there was no vigour to the shaking, but it was there and unmistakable. Bull stuck his head into one of the tunnels while Vivienne and Max did the same for the other. Max venturing a few steps in, his face contorted with concentration. “Not this one.” He opened his eyes and backed out going into Bull’s tunnel.

“You sure boss?”

“Yes. Positive.”

“I agree with our Inquisitor.” Vivienne’s regal voice chimed in. “Come, let us go.” The three of them took off again.

The clanging grew louder, but only slightly, there was no loud increase in volume as they approached an antechamber with only a few doors coming off it. The room smelled sickeningly of incense and every surface was covered with candles. In the centre was a large stone circle, and Bull refused to look at what was on it. He didn’t like that stone. It gave him bad vibes, no, he wasn’t going anywhere near that thing. He skirted around it, a good distance away.

“Dorian?” Bull called, mindful of alerting any enemies to their presence. He readied his axe as Max melted into shadow and Vivienne washed them with a barrier.

The clanging stopped.

“Bull?” He heard a quiet call, soft, barely there, just a whisper.

THERE! Bull sprinted to a door to the right and charged right through it. He went through and sped through a relatively short tunnel filled with strange alcoves filled with dried corpses and small altars, jars of every size littered shelves and the floor as he sped through but thankfully there were no off-shooting tunnels.

The clanging had started again, but with no patters, just a constant shaking of chains, and the melodious clink of metal against metal was becoming clearer until at last, they came to one heavy door. It was hard to see inside but Bull didn’t look. He simply raised his axe and started chopping.


	7. Comforting the Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They find Dorian and set about freeing him but the Venatori want to keep their prisoner!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hullo.
> 
> This story is moving very slowly despite my efforts to speed it up (not the actual writing, I've done way more past this point, but moving the plot along). When I do I feel like I'm just rushing to the finish, get annoyed then go back and add and change things *sigh* 
> 
> Thank you all for keeping up with it! This was a hard chapter to write (for very stupid reasons) -_- enjoy!

The sound of splintering wood was loud to Dorian’s ears as he listened to his lover’s grunting breath. Finally. He was safe. He held the chains on his wrists up to his face and couldn’t see how to undo them, so he contented himself to lie and wait for his rescuers, his most brilliant smile on his lips despite how painful it was to smile. He wanted them to know how grateful he was for them coming for him. They didn’t have to, he knew that. There were more important things for the Inquisition to spend resources on, and yet they came. It warmed him, this would never have happened to him in Tevinter.

Tears welled in his eyes as the last of the door splintered away and Bull, in all his blood-soaked Reaver glory barged his way into Dorian’s prison. He looked strong and vital, he looked so large, he looked amazing as his head turned this way and that, searching.

“Hello, Bull.” Dorian almost whispered and gave a pathetic wave, his brilliant smile fading into something more secret and sincere. The Iron Bull stopped and turned to him slowly, his eye squinting into the darkness of Dorian’s cell. Dorian noticed that Bull was alone and used this small bit of time to show just some of the weakness he was feeling. He frowned, “I’d get up to greet you Bull, but I’m in a lot of pain.” He sniffed, “Perhaps come in here and rescue me properly?” He rattled his chains for effect. Dorian swallowed, his saliva was thick but there was hardly any in his mouth, it hurt to put any effort into anything, even maintaining a smile when he was so drained was so very taxing. But he wanted to look strong, to look happy and as grateful as he truly felt.

Bull didn’t even wait, he just raised his axe, rage and madness in his eyes. Dorian saw the rippling strength in Bull’s form and through hazy eyes that were difficult to look through at the moment, enjoyed the safety the sight brought.

“Wait! Bull!” Max cried as he scrambled in, a very poised Vivienne strode in after, they hardly looked like they had been fighting. _I should look like that_ Dorian thought gloomily, instead, he was sure he looked…off. His attention back to his lover he saw that Bull got one very loud and particularly useless hit against the bars before he was propelled backwards. The metal of the axe and bars denting each other. Dorian winched for Bull, the man kept fastidious care of his weapons (besides leaving gore on them), they were always sharp and balanced, perfectly gripped and welded, and he had just dented one of his favourite ones.

Dorian stared as Max shouldered past Bull and dropped to his knees in front of the cell door. “You’ve ruined your axe now.” He gripped as he pulled out his lock-picking kit and set to work. Bull had dropped his axe and was now crowding the rogue, shifting from one foot to the other. He looked like a child impatient for Wintersend, but without the happiness and joy, instead he looked perturbed and anxious, Dorian knew he was the cause and felt a strange mix of shame and pride.

“Hello Inquisitor,” Dorian coughed before adding, “Vivienne.”

“Hey Dorian, good to see you.” And with that, the latch clunked and the door was unlocked and Bull pushed past Max to now crowd Dorian and Dorian was all too happy to be crowded with this particular warrior. His eyes tracked Bull as he knelt slowly next to the mage then gently reached out to stroke dirty black hair.

“Hey, Big Guy.” Dorian couldn’t see Bull’s face in the shadows, but he liked to think he could hear a smile and not pained agony, not a broken crack in the usually strong voice. For a moment the pain in his heart overwhelmed the pain in his body and he apologised over and over to Bull in his head.

“ _Amatus_.” He whispered and received a small chaste kiss on his brow. Silent tears of relief streaked down his temples as Bull continued to softly pet him while Max and Vivienne gave them a small amount of privacy. Bull, ever mindful of his horns, buried his face into Dorian’s neck and inhaled deeply, gently nuzzling at the mage's skin The man was unshaved and Dorian enjoyed the gentle scrape of stubble against his neck. It was a comforting and familiar feeling, so welcome after all this time in captivity. Dorian lifted an arm with great effort and laid his hand on the back of Bull’s head. “Oh, Bull.” He patted the shaved skin. The Iron Bull shivered imperceptibly, only a small tremble of his shoulders and a fluttering breath against Dorian’s neck were the signs that the huge man had moved.

“I still have chains on.” Dorian croaked to Bull as the warrior finally moved his face away but his hands kept hovering. Bull sat up and moved as Max came up to the cot to begin the process of removing the manacles. Dorian appreciated the manner in which the Inquisitor picked up his injured wrists, he only touched the metal cuff and gently laid the limb on his bent knee as he stooped to get a closer look at the locks. He had pushed his hood back and Dorian could see the worry lines on that impassive face, he would have to have a long talk with the man later. Bull had moved around to the head of the cot to cradle Dorian’s head in his hands and stroke callused thumbs over his temples and brows. It felt so wonderful to have gentle hands on him after his poor treatment. Dorian soaked the attention up.

“I’m sorry about my state of dress, or lack thereof.” Dorian croaked at Max and Vivienne, “How utterly shameful.” He said as he tried to angle his body so some modesty was preserved.

“My dear, your body is far from that and the only shame people should feel is when they have done something to deserve it.” Vivienne said pointedly with little more than a glance at Dorian’s body. Dorian felt relief at her no-nonsense attitude, the blunt efficiency of her opinion. She was a woman whose appearance as just as important to her as it was to him, her fancy dress –like his – was her armour against societies that were quick to judge them not based on their character or talent but rather their status as mages. His shame dissipated quickly when he realised she did not think less of him. Max and Bull had seen him naked countless times: after a battle with helping each other with wounds, in the baths and of course with Bull, well, it was much more intimate. But in the back of his mind, he knew they had never seen him so broken. What did they think? They said nothing.

Vivienne reached into her small pack and withdrew a Lyrium and Elfroot potion which she handed off to Bull. “Your magic is blocked, perhaps some Lyrium will aid in flushing your system of whatever is stifling your power.” With that she swept out of the room again to Maker knows where.

Bull helped Dorian sip slowly at the Elfroot first. The cool liquid immediately soothing is ravaged throat, but his internal injuries were too old for the Elfroot to fix immediately or completely, he could feel the potion try to knit torn flesh but essentially give up. It dulled much of the sharp pain, but the mage was still sore. Dorian hissed as quietly as he could when Max finally and carefully peeled the manacle from the wrist he had unlocked. Mumbling a sincere “Sorry” as he carefully removed the metal from the wounded flesh.

“I’m just glad the wretched thing is off!” Dorian said cheerily. He noticed that Bull and Max did not share his cheer but decided not to comment. Instead, he brought the injured wrist to his chest carefully not resting the mangled flesh on anything. He noticed Bull had stopped stroking his hair. “More pampering please Bull. Your attention is a good distraction.”

Bull started a little and shifted before beginning his gentle ministrations again. It really did feel wondrous, those large fingers carding softly through his dirty hair. Dorian looked up at his _Amatus_ and could only see his pointed chin, Bull was not looking at him, but down his body, probably at what Max was doing. His chest was so near and Dorian wish he could just lean up and kiss that strong sternum, right between built pectorals, if only head didn’t feel like it was made of sandbags.

Another manacle came off while the noise of battle echoed through the halls. The Venatori were putting up a fight it seemed. Dorian, with both arms free, stretched as much as his abused body allowed, which wasn’t much before he winced and resigned himself to no movement and concentrating on not letting his brain explode. He quite liked it nestled snugly in his cranium where it belonged. So he concentrated on breathing carefully and the caresses he was receiving from his _Amatus_. He started thinking about bathing and getting clean and imagined hot water running in rivulets down his scalp to his neck then onto his back, anything to distract himself from and mentally relieve the pain he felt.

“Okay, just your legs. Should be easier now that I know the lock design.” Max was mostly talking to himself, but it was comforting nonetheless. As Max got one lock off Dorian’s ankle Vivienne swept back into the room.

“We will have to hurry up. It appears that the cultists have decided to stop defending and are instead turning their attention to recovering their artifact.” Max looked up from the other ankle, lock picks poised comically above the chain.

“Artifact?” Bull’s grip on Dorian’s head increased imperceptibly.

“That’s right,” the enchanter stepped through the threshold of the cell, “it has become apparent through their screaming that they do not want to lose our mage and are making efforts to recover him.” She dropped a robe gently across Dorian’s chest and turned to Max. “Do hurry along dear.”

Dorian’s chest constricted as mild panic began to set in. He would not put up with being a prisoner again, he would turn himself into a raging inferno and burn all the Venatori and himself into oblivion before he let them take him again. He closed his eyes, swallowing hard, fighting against the fear that was building.

“Shit.” Max hastened with the lock as Vivienne went back out to the room casting glyphs on the floor and standing ready at the entrance.

A few snicks and satisfying snaps later and Max was finished. “Okay, we’re done. Dorian?” Max stood and waited expectantly.

“Ah…yes. Of course.” Dorian faltered but he sat up without a word. Head down and eyes clenched shut. _Breathe, just breathe Pavus. Your friends are here. You’re safe, they came, and they’re getting you out_. Once upright he let out a shaking breath. “Magic,” he said like the phrase meant ‘ta-da.’ Bull and Max did not look impressed. Were they angry at him? Annoyed that they’d had to come rescue him? Dorian saw their faces and looked down, suddenly nervous and afraid for another reason. _Do they regret coming? Am I a nuisance?_ He tried to lift the robe but it felt so heavy. He refused to be useless! He tried again, but his fingers simply would not cooperate. The more frustrated he became the more his head hurt, he didn’t know how much more he could take.

Bull was hovering, and when the robe slipped uselessly from Dorian’s hands he said nothing but clenched his eyes shut and sighed through his nose in pain and frustration. The large figure of The Iron Bull appeared above head height to him the big lummox was so large even though he was kneeling. The horned man stooped and moved his head around until Dorian was forced to look into one black-bagged eye.

“I’m sorry Bull, please don’t be angry. Would you help me dress?” He whispered his request. “Simply move me around, I shan’t complain. I promise.”

 

 

oOo

 

 

Bull had charged into the room, desperate and searching frantically. The room was bare bar a few torches on the walls, a single chair and a few cells, all darkened and unlit. He knew the sound had come from here.

“Hello Bull.” Bull stopped and turned, mentally preparing himself for what he might see. Dorian beaten and broken? Dorian close to death? Dorian tortured and maimed? He steeled himself as he slowly looked toward the place where the soft voice he had missed so much came from.

Dorian lay on a wooden cell cot attached to the wall. His hand falling as if it was too heavy for him, he tracked that hand down to where it rested on a smooth chest. And Bull’s rage rose.

Dorian was naked and his chest and stomach was a mess of red, yellow and black bruises. There was one bruise that was suspiciously fist shaped and if the red angry scrapes were any indicator, the attacker had armour on. There were angry burst blood vessels, grazes and scrapes. There were lumps where there should only be smooth planes of muscle! The Iron Bull started to pant with fury.

“I’d get up to greet you Bull, but I’m in a lot of pain. Perhaps come in here and rescue me properly?” Instantly Bull reacted. Yes. Save. Rescue. Get Dorian out of that cage. Without thinking Bull raised his axe his eye fixed on his pretty mage, he needed to get Dorian out. To save him. The clang of his axe hitting the bar jarred his arms and flung him back a bit. He was jolted out of his daze from shock and instead dropped his axe as Max pushed past him to open the cell door like a normal person.

“You’ve ruined your axe now.” Max scolded him, but he didn’t care. A little dent in his axe was nothing compared to the damage on his _Kadan_. He stood behind Max, willing him to work faster, his eyes never leaving the black haired ‘Vint. When he heard the final tumbler fall into place, he all but pushed Max out of the way to swing the cell door open. Finally, he was reunited with his heart.

He knelt by the cot, uncaring that his leg protested and reached his hand out to gently stroke Dorian’s hair. It was filthy and dusty and Bull had never felt anything more wonderful. He was hovering, he knew it, “Hey, Big Guy.” All his Ben-Hassrath training couldn’t stop the choking pain in his voice, he couldn’t stop it, and this was all new to him, feeling real emotion, or at least allowing himself to engage with it.

Dorian’s eyes were sad as they closed, relief clearly etched on his face as he smiled a little and whispered “ _Amatus_.” It broke Bull and he leaned down to bury his nose in the mage’s neck. He smelled dusty, of blood and sweat and something off. There were none of his spicy oils or his perfumes so Bull buried his nose deeper hoping to scent his _Kadan_ , it was there, faint and difficult to catch but he was relieved Dorian was alive and soon to be well.

Bull breathed in his mage and tried to ignore the liquid seeping out of his only eye. A gentle hand came to rest on his head, the hand curling perfectly to cup his skull, “Oh Bull.” And while that hand comforted him he refused to think of the implications that his chest now felt like someone had stopped squeezing it with a vice.

Bull felt movement behind him as Max came around to get Dorian out of his chains and Bull shifted out of the way, never allowing his hands to not touch the captured mage. He decided to cradle his _Kadan’s_ head, he hadn’t had a pillow, and sleeping on a hard surface was sure to be a horrific experience for the man.

As he gently held that head of black hair he swore he could feel a lump the size of an egg under his palms and another on the side of Dorian’s head, but said nothing. Just stared at Max working and the ruins of that perfect brown body. To comfort himself he started to absently stroke Dorian’s face, running his thumbs along cheeks rough with stubble, over eyebrows still smooth despite the grit then gently past soft temples into filthy hair. He automatically helped the mage drink the potions that Vivienne had handed to him, but his mind was far away.

Bull was angry and horrified by the state of Dorian’s body. He was fearful of what it might make Dorian think. The man was justifiably vain (he was a beautiful human after all), but that vanity was also a defense mechanism and a power device. Having a weapon in his usual arsenal taken away even temporarily might hurt him and Bull didn’t know what to do if it did. The other thing that bothered him was the state of dress or lack thereof. Why had the cultists needed to strip Dorian? Instinctively Bull knew that it had been Dorian on that creepy round stone outside a few tunnels away. What had they done? Why was Dorian naked?

Before Bull’s mind could provide him with an answer he heard Dorian, “More pampering please Bull, your attention is a good distraction.” He pulled himself out of his thinking trance, shaking himself to focus on comforting Dorian and resume stroking his head.

Max was on Dorian’s other leg when Vivienne came back in with a robe for Dorian and informed them that she had heard the battle had turned. “We will have to hurry up. It appears that the cultists have decided to stop defending and are instead turning their attention to recovering their artifact.”

Bull’s heart had jumped at that and he tightened his grip ever so slightly on Dorian’s head, he dreaded and knew the answer at the same time “Artifact?”

“That’s right, it has become apparent through their screaming that they do not want to lose our mage and are making efforts to recover him. Do hurry along dear.”

“Shit.” Max started on the other manacle as Vivienne went out of the cell again. He was fast this time only a few seconds but the anxiety in Bull was rising with each moment.

“Okay, we’re done.” The rogue stood up and stared at Dorian, his body leaning towards him like he desperately wanted to just scoop the mage up and put him in his pocket, but all he said was “Dorian?”

Dorian was out of it, Bull could tell. He was struggling to take in everything that was happening and might even be concussed, he took a while to even understand what Max had said in fact Bull wasn’t even sure Dorian had understood Max.

“Ah…yes. Of course.” Then began the process of Dorian sitting up. Not a sound was uttered by the mage as he visibly struggled with the pain he was obviously in and Bull shared a look with Max. Both their brows mimicking each others' in furrows of concern. When the mage was finally upright he gave what he probably thought was a winning smile but it looked more like a grimace and said, “Magic.” Like they were supposed to be impressed that he was sitting up. The effect was unfortunately akin to horror; the horror that the man had had to use so much effort to simply sit up, that he wasn’t keeping up a running commentary of complaints and horror that he felt like he had to make light of his situation, of his torture.

Bull moved around as Dorian fumbled with the robe. In his hands, it looked like the robe was heavy and unmanageable. He knelt before the man, Dorian looked so much smaller curled in on himself instead of sitting tall like he usually did. Those beautiful green-silver eyes refused to look at him and his head remained down. Bull bent, putting his head below Dorian, twisting his neck up so that they were face to face.

Dorian’s eyes were screwed shut and his jaw clenched, and Bull was about to lean in to kiss him when those eyes opened, and Dorian whispered, “I’m sorry Bull, please don’t be angry. Would you help me dress? Simply move me around, I shan’t complain. I promise.”


	8. Getting Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group move to get Dorian out of the tombs while the fighting rages on around them!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suck at thinking of titles for chapters, why did I do it?  
> Also, I had no idea that Bull wasn't a 'real' Reaver! No drinking dragon blood for him! Also, the thing with Vivienne is a real build you can create for her (and your Inky if you are so inclined)  
> uh...action scenes are not my forte, but I love me some dramatic irony. I hope this passes muster.
> 
> Thanks for reading! \o\ /o/ \o/

Bull felt like he had been punched. Never mind that Dorian wasn’t even coherent enough to form his usual expressive discourse but somehow Dorian thought he was angry at him, well he needed to fix that immediately. He cupped the mages face and leant in for that kiss he was going for before.

The mage’s lips were cracked, rough and chapped. The Elfroot had done something, but it doesn’t cure dehydration. Bull ran his tongue gently across sore lips before pulling away with a tiny peck. Reaching behind him he got his own water skin and pressed it to Dorian’s mouth. Helping the mage tip his head back to drink carefully.

Dorian took long thirsty pulls from the skin and seemed to get stronger with each swallow. Finally, he stopped and blinked at Bull.

Bull stared purposefully into Dorian’s eyes and smiled, “ _Kadan_. You can complain all you want.” Dorian closed his eyes and visibly relaxed as he leant into the palm Bull had placed against his cheek.

“Hey Bull, Dorian. We still need to hurry.” Max interrupted softly as he took the robe from his best friend’s hands. “You just try to stay relaxed and loose Dorian, Bull and I will take care of you.”

Bull bit his lip from holding back an inappropriate comment but Dorian supplied one of his own, “You know that’s the exact opposite of what my father wanted.” He said it with a kind of listless flippancy that had Bull a bit worried about any injuries Dorian’s brain might have been subjected to, then he chuckled at his own wit somewhat privately. Seemingly better after he knew Bull was not angry at him, the larger man didn’t think about how that made him feel, and he steadfastly ignored that little bubble of warmth that settled at the top of his gut but Bull was still worried, they needed to get Dorian out of here now and to a healer.

While Bull lifted Dorian’s arms, Max threaded the robe over the mages form and finally, the man was covered again. The robe didn’t exactly look comfortable and unfortunately, it was a Venatori spare. But it wasn’t torn or covered in blood and it looked clean.

“Okay, we need to get out of here. Dorian, what’s the best way for you?” Max stood back and started towards the jail cell glancing between Dorian and the door leading out of the room. Bull sat next to Dorian, wrapping a protective arm around him. It was telling how distracted Dorian was, or how unhinged he was at his acceptance of all this open affection. Bull wondered how long it would last. Probably not long, so he leant in and placed a kiss at Dorian’s temple, leaving his lips there and breathing into black hair.

He heard Dorian sigh and moved when the mage turned towards him, “I’m sorry Bull.” His head flopped back like it was a monumental weight and it had Bull rushing to help support it carefully with his arm. _‘Shit’_ he swore internally, he could even feel the lump on Dorian’s head with his bicep! That was not right.

“Don’t apologise.” He interrupted quickly, hiding his concern. Dorian’s mouth snapped shut, then opened slowly again. The mage was taking too much time to blink, it was disconcerting especially when his irises would roll down after he opened them again.

“Ah…yes. Quite. I can’t walk without being a hin-hinderance. Would you, can you carry me?” Bull wanted to scream as Dorian struggled to talk and maintain his usual eloquence, he wasn’t quite successful.

“Yes.” Was all Bull said before he again knelt before the back with his back turned towards him with the intent to piggyback him, but Dorian didn’t move.

“Bull. I’m so…Bull, carry me in front?” Dorian’s voice was so hesitant and Bull wondered why he didn’t want to be piggybacked. He didn’t question and instead turned and gently lifted Dorian from the cot. He didn’t say anything, but he did notice the flinches of pain from the mage, and his eye-lashes clumping with tears as he moved didn’t escape his notice.

“Okay. Let’s go.” He kissed that black hair again and followed Max out through the door with Vivienne bringing up the rear. He clung as tightly as he could to the man in his arms without hurting him and slipped into the tunnels.

 

The fighting was still going as the four of them moved back towards the entrance to escape, but it was smooth travel for most of the twisting tunnels. When they had passed the creepy room Dorian had tightened his grip on Bull’s shoulder but didn’t say anything. He _knew_ it. Something had happened to Dorian in this room. The others didn’t notice and were carefully picking their way through, only Bull could feel the mage’s tension. He once again skirted the room, avoiding going close to that round stone.

It was when they were closer to the entrance that Bull felt his anxiety begin to rise. At the start the Venatori had poured out to the entrance to defend their base and while many had fallen back to “recover their artefact” much of the fighting was still occurring there.

They met Cole, Varric and Blackwall stalking around in the tunnels checking Venatori bodies lying around, Cole and Blackwall were slitting throats while Varric shot precise bolts between eyes. When they approached they stopped and rushed forward.

“You found him! Good!” Cole sounded relieved and breathy. Infinitely pleased.

“Good to see you Sparkler. You owe me 100 royals Blackwall.”

The warden grumbled something about stupid romantics but looked intently at Dorian, “It’s good you’re back lad.” And left it at that.

Max had a raised eyebrow and Bull guessed that like himself, he was wondering what the other warrior and rogue had bet on. Dorian said nothing, but looking down at the mage's face, Bull could see that Dorian was smiling and he had rested his head on Bull’s chest even more.

“As you all probably know,” Max started, in full Inquisitor mode, “The Venatori now want to take Dorian back.”

“Is that what they were yelling about?” Varric mused, leaning Bianca against his shoulder, “You know these fanatics, can’t help but yell about what they intend to do.” He shrugged.

“That’s it exactly,” Max continued, “The artifact is Dorian, we aren’t sure why we’ll find out later. Right now, we need to focus on getting Dorian out of here safely which will be hard since he is actually the target.”

“The robes probably help. They might think we’re just kidnapping one of their own back.” Blackwall suggested.

“Urgh. I didn’t realise.” Dorian spat, his weak fingers picking uselessly at the emblem on the robe he was wearing. It worried Bull all over again that the mage hadn’t even noticed what the robe was. He needed to get the man out of here.

“Uhhh…riiight.” Blackwall looked at Bull, impressive eyebrows up to his hairline. Bull gave a minute shake of his head.

“That might work if we pull the hood up.” Max came up to Bull and checked if there was a hood, “Might be best anyway, it will be bright outside Dorian and you’ll probably need to adjust to the light.”

“Urgh.” Dorian slumped lower at the mention of nature apparently it dampened his spirits more. Max pulled the hood over the mages head and Bull could swear the mage relaxed even more in his arms.

“Sorry to be a stick in the mud. But it might work for all of three seconds. What with the way Tiny is carrying Sparkler. It smacks more of a lover than a hostage.” Varric grinned as Blackwall grumbled a bit more.

“That three seconds is better than nothing. In three seconds Bull can run half a room. Here’s what we’re going to do.” Max laid out the plan quickly. They would all move as a group forming a protective shield around Bull and Dorian since both of them were incapable of fighting. It would be a running gauntlet. Get to the entrance as fast as possible, no one moving away from the circle unless absolutely necessary. Incapacitate and don’t pause to kill if it meant slowing down. Vivienne and Varric would focus on incoming attacks while the rest dealt with whatever got through.

“Vivienne I’m sorry but you’re also going to have to focus on barrier upkeep and prioritise Bull and Dorian.”

“Naturally,” Vivienne replied with a tone of superiority.

“Once it’s ready I’ll use Mark of the Rift, but only close to the entrance. Once that happens the focus will be the escape for Bull and Dorian, the rest of us do everything we can to assist them. Understood?” There was a rather lacklustre but solid affirmation all around and Bull was confident that they were getting out.

They moved as a unit back towards the entrance. The clang of metal on metal sounded through the air and shouts of agony surprise and rage filled the tunnels so that nothing else could be heard. The explosions of fireballs and burning peppered the sounds of battle while the crackling of lightning filled the tunnels with the smell of ozone.

Bull held tight to Dorian, waiting, dreading contact. How could he protect the man when he wasn’t fighting? What would he do if…

Then it happened. A wall of fire rose in front of them its flames so tall they licked the ceiling. “Blackwall! Varric!” The fire had cut the two off in the front, the Inquisitor yelled for them through the flames then phased through it himself. The sounds of cursing and angry Tevene could be heard while Bull and the others waited useless and impatient.

They didn’t even wait for the flames to die down completely before they were running. The gauntlet had begun. The bull was conscious of every jolt and step he took as it rattled Dorian, but the man was uncomfortably quiet. As they ran past a tunnel he saw the backs of Blackwall and Varric holding a tunnel secure, a choke point. Dorian’s hand shoved under his harness

“Run! Go!” Max screamed as he left the warrior and rogue to re-join the group. They wove through tunnels, both Max and Cole going up ahead to kill Venatori before they reached the group.

They had run fast to the main chamber. Bull’s ankle ached, and his arms were starting to weaken from carrying Dorian, but he ignored the pain. He would not let Dorian go, he would not hand the man over to anyone. He would die before he let Dorian be taken again. He clutched the man harder to his chest and was rewarded with a squeeze to his shoulder. Yes! Good! Dorian was still with them.

Running fast wasn’t possible now. In the large chamber, there were Inquisition and Venatori, both battling with magic and weapons. The floor was littered with bodies, blood and debris. Gore splattered the walls and ground alike and the air stank of rot and death.

The group moved, and Bull crouched as low as he could as he tried to carry Dorian out quickly, they were almost halfway through the chamber when one of the Venatori noticed.

“ _IBI!_ ” The man screamed, and Bull looked over to see one Venatori pointing at them, the Inquisition soldier in front of them turned quickly, saw them widened his eyes then turned rapidly and stabbed the distracted mage.

 _Fuck! Fuckfuckfuck_. Bull’s running mantra was nothing like what he was used to, he didn’t panic, he revelled in battle, but right now he was not a fighter he was simply a big target holding a little target. This was going to get harder.

The effect of the mage screaming the alarm was instantaneous. The fighting escalated as the Inquisition soldiers saw the inner circle and fought harder to stop their enemies. The Venatori saw their pray and viciously scrambled to recover it, the surge toward them was a real tangible wave. The energy in the room spiked so did the noise so did the number of errant fireballs, chains of lightning and sheets of ice.

More and more Venatori were getting to them now. Max was circling everywhere around the group, efficiently killing but never leaving their side. Cole complimented him and phased in where Max wasn’t. Vivienne was constantly washing them with barriers and slashing at fools who got too close to her, the enchanter’s blade replenishing her energy so she could endlessly cast her protective magic.

And Bull? Bull was pressing forward whenever he saw an opportunity. The group moved with him as one. He dictated their pace, he watched carefully and took any opportunity, making sure to guide them away from glyphs. They were slower now. They needed to move!

Pain exploded in Bull’s left leg and he lurched forward putting all his weight on his right, lunging to stop himself from falling. He crushed Dorian to him, determined not to drop the man, he quickly regained balance. A stab wound, no weapon left, had worse keep moving, Bull categorised his injury. Bull breathed through his nose, a sharp inhale before grinding his teeth together and standing up straight. He moved forward.

“Bull! Bull are you alright?”

“Fine! Keep going!” He didn’t know who asked, he just needed to keep moving he was getting angry and frustrated with how slow they were going they needed to be faster! And then something happened that never had before. Bull’s Reaver-like abilities flooded his senses, he felt powerful and strong, suddenly Dorian weighed nothing and everything on the battle-field was clearer. He had nothing to kill but his mind was sharp with a single purpose, every path opened to his eyes, every projectile was clear to see and avoid, all of this was from just one – fairly ignorable – injury. Never, in all his life had Bull experienced his abilities turning on unintentionally, nor from so few wounds.

Not questioning his good fortune Bull surged forward quickly, keeping Dorian stable and dodging all manner of spells, swords, and people. He could see the exit, the dark doorway he knew lead to sunshine and he sprinted towards it.

A flash of red and silver blurred in front of him and he skidded to a halt. Belatedly he realised that he was alone, the other’s must have been held back, but he had his orders. Keep going, he was going to do that and no one, not even this one Red Templar was going to stop him.

“Give me the artifact.” The thing that was once a man spoke and Bull’s sensitive ears picked up the tinny quality of the many voices that flooded into one. His armour was a mass of metal and red crystals and his eyes glowed an eerie red and Bull hated him, he knew that as sure as he drew breath, this man was _not_ to ever touch Dorian. He bent his knees and angled his horns towards the corrupted man glaring back.

“Not. Going. To. Happen.” Bull growled, his eye taking in the sight and every movement the Templar made. Longsword poised at his side, gripped tightly, ready to swing. Stance low and stable, feet apart and ready to charge. Head down and focused, red eyes on both Dorian and him.

 _If he touches Dorian, we’re done for. Keep Dorian away from reach. Can’t show him our back, will go in for the kill, disable then take Dorian._ Bull’s brain provided analysis, but his strategy was lacking, he was in trouble, normally offence, he took hits to hit harder and didn’t defend. Now he was defending himself and the man in his arms.

Without warning or ranting, the Red Templar slashed his sword out at Bull’s head. Bull swayed backwards and kept moving. The man kept pressing forward, always aiming for some part of Bull. Looking to cut his legs out, cleave his head. _Not aiming for Dorian, doesn’t want to kill_. Bull hoisted Dorian higher so the man’s head was nestled close to his neck, it left his belly open but that was better than being decapitated…mildly.

Bull kept quiet as he dodged trying to move in such a way that he was always getting closer to the exit, but the Templar knew, when Bull dodged and edged left for the doorway the creature recovered from their attack and quickly moved to cut Bull off. An overhead cleave, dodge left, an upward sweeping swipe left, step back, low stab, jump backwards. Their deadly dance played out swiftly and Bull looked desperately for something to turn the tide in his favour. Perhaps…there! Bull kicked an errant head at the Templar but it bounced ineffectively off the man’s chest and suddenly the red man was right there, there was no warning. He was like the Inquisitor, in a flash of red he was in front of Bull and close enough to touch Dorian. _NO!_ Bull’s mind screamed.

Bull roared in anger and surprise, on reflex he kicked out as hard as he could. His boot connected to metal with a crack and the Templar was sent backwards, but Bull’s injured Leg gave way and he crumpled, why damnit? It didn’t hurt! Why was it suddenly weak? Tendon injury? Nerve injury? Bull was down on his knee, he tried to get up, but his leg refused. He felt so powerful! Why was this happening?

He saw the Templar, saw the exact moment the creature knew he was vulnerable and the sword was back up. Desperate to protect Dorian he hunched over, covering the man with his body as the Templar charged, but Bull stared him in the eyes unwilling to hide his face from his attacker.

A flash of green, brown and black knocked the warrior away, swift flashes of silver flickered through a cloud of black before it materialised into the boss.

“Bull! Take a potion! Your leg is bad then RUN!” The man didn’t even turn around to bark his orders, dodging the furious Templar who had been denied his prize. The rogue whipped around, spinning in a confusing dance then switched to attacking with ruthless efficiency.

Bull quickly dug into his pouch, settling a very still Dorian on his good leg while he downed the Elfroot. Immediately he felt feeling rush back into his leg and the wound starting to knit itself together. He quickly assessed his path, then as a final aid to the Inquisitor threw the crystal bottle as hard as he could at the Templar. It shattered into the visor and an unholy shriek of a thousand voices filled the room. Max jumped back and as fast as he could used the mark.

That was Bull’s chance. He lunged up and sprinted, nothing stood in his way, all the enemies were struggling against the pull of the rift and were a blur of physical matter being pull into impossible space. Bull just ran.

“Nearly there _Kadan._ ” Bull didn’t know if he was saying it more to himself or to the man who was not moving a whole lot in his arms, but another squeeze from the hand on his shoulder told him it was okay.

Left turn, right through the second doorway, straight, antechamber and finally yes! Stairs! Bull continued running towards the daylight at the top of the stone stairs, he took them two at a time. Soon, soon his _Kadan_ would be safe.

He lunged into the sunlight and ignored the sting in his eye as it attempted to adjust, he ran until he was past the clearing, to the point where he knew the Inquisition had a strong foothold. The moment he stepped past the medic stations and into the dunes, he slowed pace.

His heart was hammering, his arms were straining, and his ankle was throbbing in protest, but Bull had never felt more exhilarated and relieved in his life. He looked down at the mage in his arms, he couldn’t see the ‘Vint’s beautiful face but that didn’t matter. They had done it, they had retrieved their companion alive and whole. The man was finally home.

 

oOo

 

Dorian was annoyed. Sensibly, he knew that all the noise, clashing of metal, grunts and screams were caused by him being rescued, and the Inquisitor and his companions were doing a marvellous job. But his head ached and what with all the swords hitting shields, being jostled around in Bull’s arms his brain was close to vacating his skull. The Venatori should have the decency to die quieter.

Dorian was also annoyed that he couldn’t fully enjoy the way Bull was carrying him. He was being carried through the fighting with his mind in a minor hazy fog – the Elfroot and potions were working - but he knew he wasn’t as quick as he should be. Instead, he reached up and shoved his hand under Bull’s ridiculous shoulder harness and contented himself to gripping the strong neck tendons that started there.

He could smell the warrior acutely being this close to his skin and Dorian found comfort in burying his nose further into the Qunari’s neck breathing in that metallic-blood scent that Bull always had when he was about to turn Reaver.

He conceded that perhaps this was the most romantic thing someone had done for him. It was almost like a fairy-tale, but no one told him that the Princess would be getting chafed on her knight’s armour, nor that running while being held knocked your teeth together and jostled you against the hard flesh and bones of your own rescuer. And the horse? No, Dorian could not fathom sitting on a horse right now, straddle or side saddle no matter how white and majestic the beast might be. Nevertheless, he would enjoy his fairy-tale rescue as much as he could.

Dorian hid under his hood, thankful for the darkness. Bull was his namesake, simply charging through the structure only stopping momentarily where Dorian could heart shouts and more intense fighting, but he couldn’t pay attention. He could feel Bull tense and, in his hazy state, attempt to comfort him. Twice he felt gravity shift and heard a low grunt from Bull, but Dorian didn’t lift his head. He didn’t think he could. Soon he was jostled around more than before, he didn’t mind, he felt secure in Bull’s arms despite the moment.

Then a blaze of unnatural green light, more jostling, and suddenly they were outside. Beneath the hood, Dorian was very glad for the darkness and protection it offered, bless Max. He squinted his eyes to the sun and only opened them very slowly trying to allow his dark-adjusted eyes to cope with the sun’s blinding happiness. His head cleared a little and Dorian wondered if there were magical wards all through the cave systems that the Venatori had counterspells to them, it was quite strange how much clearer he could think outside his prison. His head still hurt though, it was still a constant source of pulsing pain.

They were still moving, more steadily but still quickly and it was blessedly less noisy the further they moved away from the caves. Bull was carrying him close and now that they were outside into an obviously captured area he was taking care not to rattle Dorian. It was very sweet and Dorian stopped death gripping Bull’s shoulder under his harness to trail his fingers down one of the man’s pectorals. He was so warm, and even though it was warm and being in the robes was making it hotter, Dorian liked the feel of Bull’s natural heat. It was so much more pleasant than nature.

Eventually, they came to another sandy hill and Dorian wanted to curse at it, he never wanted to visit a desert again. Bull’s boots were sinking heavily into the sand due to Dorian’s extra weight, it must have been hell on the man’s ankle and yet the warrior didn’t say anything. When Dorian looked up at him from under the hood, he still had a steely look of determination on his face. Braving the light a little more Dorian lifted the hood and glanced around. They were alone moving through the dunes and sparse bushes towards what he assumed was the Inquisition camp. “Where’s…” A coughing fit overtook him not made easier by the harsh dry desert air.

“Hey now. Easy. Easy.” Bull's voice was impossibly gentle as he soothed him. “Max and the others stayed back to clear out the rest of the cultists. We’re safe here, getting back to camp, we cleared this area and all the scouts are still around. There look,” he pointed at a small divot in the sand with a nod of his chin, “scout track.”

Dorian didn’t even look. Instead, he stretched his neck and tilted his head towards the heavens. The warm sun was hot on his skin, he could feel the rays on his eyelids licking heat and life onto them. Bull was still steadily moving up the dune, slowed a little by the incline and shifting sand. “ _Amatus_ stop.” Dorian didn’t know why he wanted his voice soft, oh it hurt, but loud proclamations seemed inappropriate.

Bull pulled up, “What is it? What’s wrong?” His grip tightened on Dorian’s shoulder and knees, “ _Kadan_ what is it?”

“Shh shh, it’s okay” Dorian quieted that desperate voice. “I just want a moment. A moment with you. Before people.” His face still turned to the sun he leaned his head on Bull’s shoulder. He only spoke quietly using few words to preserve his voice for he knew he would need to use it more with the healer. He was not looking forward to that.

“Okay.” A breath of relief escaped Bull, “Okay, here.” He slowly lowered them both to the ground and pressed his water skin to Dorian’s lips again. The mage drank carefully but gratefully and when he was done he looked at his lover. His grey face was taught and his eyes dark, but there was a hunger and anger there in his eyes that both comforted Dorian and gave him pause.

“Bull, I.” He stopped. “You carried me the whole way?”

The man raised an eyebrow, “Yes.”

“You aren’t hurt? How is your ankle? How are the others?” Dorian started to struggle to stand, his natural reaction to not wanting to be a burden on those around him down here was starting to come back.

Bull stilled him by holding him close, “I’m good Kadan, the others protected us. I’m okay, ankle does hurt a little, but I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry.” Dorian settled and stroked his fingers down Bull’s chest again, “Thank you _Amatus_.”

Bull’s smile was radiant, “I’d do it again for you _Kadan._ ” Then he leaned in to kiss Dorian, his tongue sneakily stole into Dorian’s mouth and stroked his, gently rubbing and chasing like he was tasting when he moaned Dorian all but melted. They broke the kiss with small pecks and suddenly reality crashed down on Dorian’s poor head, “We’re going to a healer yes?” He was nervous now.

“Of course.” Bull frowned, “No arguments, we’re going straight away.” Bull looked like he was gearing up for a fight, but Dorian reached out and laid a hand against his cheek, gently rubbing the pad of his thumb along his cheekbone just below the eye-patch.

“I missed you.” Dorian smiled, his lips cracking and Bull deflated, the fight seemingly leaving him since there was none.

“I almost went mad…” Bull stopped, and Dorian could see the larger man swallow his words, “But we have you back now and you’re safe.” Bull patted the mage’s shoulder.

“Bull,” Dorian’s voice was quiet and serious, the smile had faded, and he was staring into Bull’s face, “will you be in the tent with the healer?” He didn’t know if he wanted Bull to be there or not, he didn’t know if he could handle his lover hearing that another man had forced himself on him.

Bull loved strength, got off on it even, what was that phrase? _Taarsid-something-something-I-get-off-on-killing-dragons_. To hear that his mage, his _Kadan_ hadn’t been strong enough to stop another man raping him, what would that do? What impression would that leave? Would he think Dorian weak and pathetic? Less of a man?

No, Dorian tried to stop himself thinking like that. Bull loved all sorts of people, he loved people who certainly looked weak. He’d seen Bull with them before they had started their liaison. He was fine, happy with weakness. Oh, but how he got hard after fighting a dragon, it seemed that his cock became impossibly harder and bigger after they fought _Ataashi_ and Dorian was the one to benefit from it. _He prefers strength._ Dorian inwardly groaned, his mind was seemingly content to disrupt his logical thinking. _And redheads_ his brain unhelpfully offered up as a final injury _._ Dorian stopped thinking and faced Bull who had apparently already answered.

“Sorry, what was that?”

Bull gave him a look, “I said, only if you want me there. But I have to tell you _Kadan_ I’d like to be in there, with you.” Then the great man pulled what Dorian could only assume was his best puppy-dog face at him.

“You evil manipulator.” Dorian pushed weakly at that immovable chest then sighed, “Very well, but you must promise me that no matter what you hear in that tent…you…” Dorian stopped almost so overcome with fear that his voice was cracking, but he cleared it and continued, “no matter what you hear you mustn’t get…” Dorian couldn’t find the word. What did he want? What could he say? He couldn’t very well say “You mustn’t reject me, please _Amatus_ don’t leave me” that would be desperate and unfair even though, that was exactly what Dorian wanted to say.

Bull was looking at him expectantly his face carefully devoid of emotion. So, Dorian closed his eyes and whispered the vaguest thing he could think of.


	9. Healer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally going to the healer tent. Will Dorian cope with telling ohers what happened to him? How will Bull react?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the VERY late update. I've been sick...as in I'm not lying I almost died sick. (2 surgeries later and I can finally look at a computer screen).

Bull stood close to Dorian while he was getting checked over by the healer, an overly matronly woman who Bull had discovered (from when he was full Ben-Hassrath and spying on nearly everyone), had a preoccupation with sherry, or specifically one special bottle that she only opened once a year.  She was professional and firm but had an excellent bedside manner with even the most difficult patients. Dorian would have been one, but he was curiously docile and helpful except for one aspect: his pain. He answered all her questions as clearly and accurately as he could but was suitably chastised when he downplayed how much pain he was in. She had already done a magical scan on the mage looking for internal injuries.

“Ser Pavus. When I ask you to identify how much pain you are in on a scale of one to ten, zero is not an option, now be sensible, please. Pain is a very good indicator of how serious an injury may be as is the type of pain.” She continued her check-up and Bull stared at the back of Dorian’s head.

He was sitting on a slightly raised cot that didn’t look completely comfortable, and the mage was studiously avoiding looking at Bull.

_“Please, keep an open mind.”_ Had been the request that Dorian – head down -  had made under the blazing sun. What in hell’s name had that meant? Keep an open mind? Bull thought that was the most cryptic and arguably one of the most useless promises he’d had to make. He was very open-minded, Dorian knew that. Bull figured that there was something else he had really wanted to say but didn’t. It was okay, Bull’s mind was open like a book. So open that the mage could have written volumes of poetry in there if he wanted (closed to demons though thank you, ma’am).

“Right.” There was a tone in the doctor’s voice that snapped Bull to attention. “You are not concussed, amazingly, but you have three head injuries that will need to be monitored. Scanning you, you have 2 broken ribs and your sternum is fractured which is why you are having trouble breathing. Unfortunately, the breaks are too old for a potion to really do very much but they will help with the healing process. I am going to lightly bandage you to minimize and restrict your movement, but you must be vigilant in resting yourself. If possible, try to sleep with minimal movement.”

The doctor moved over to her table that had dressing and an assortment of bottles and treatment apparatus. “As you probably know, being the intelligent young man you are, you also have extensive tissue damage consistent with being beaten as you described; however, your internal organs are all functioning well and are somewhat unharmed,” she paused and her voice changed to low and questioning, “there is some damage I am concerned about.” Her face was serious, and all her attention was on Dorian, she seemed to be waiting for him to reply. He didn’t. Bull looked back and forth between them. What was going on? What damage? He looked to Dorian for an explanation, but the man was silently sitting there, his jaw moving back and forth while his fingers rubbed together hard.

She sat in front of Dorian and Bull went to sit next to the mage who had listened to the whole diagnoses with his head down. He was worried now, and Bull placed a hand on Dorian’s shoulder not missing the slight tensing in the mage’s body.

The doctor finally looked at Bull, but only for a brief second before looking back at the top of Dorian’s head. She apparently stopped waiting for a reply. “Before I start bandaging and treating some of your wounds, do you have any questions for me? Anything to tell me?” She spoke kindly, leaning into Dorian trying to meet his eyes.

Dorian took a deep breath but stopped and winced and Bull winced too, he’d had both those chest injuries before and he knew how hard it was to breathe deeply. Dorian probably hadn’t had injuries like that before, his combat was long range, and when someone got close he used his necromancy to scare them, then move to a new position. No, Bull doubted the mage had been injured like this before.

The mage calmed down and said, “Not a question, but a request. Can you administer an enema?”

Bull leaned back to study the mage, that one phrase, that one request started something in the Bull’s mind, it was small and dark with tiny thorn tendrils slowly growing out as through his logical mind and he knew he wasn’t going to like this.

The doctor had no reaction, like she had been expecting something like this, and kept her professional demeanor up, “May I ask why?” A gentle prodding and a meaningful glance at Bull. Her face was stern, warning him, showing him something, telling him what? Dorian still hadn’t looked up, but Bull didn’t miss the slight turn of the head to indicate he had glanced his way.

“Would you prefer The Iron Bull wait outside?” The doctor’s voice changed again, protective of her patient, it was the voice of someone who was prepared to kick him out if Dorian wanted. But the man sat up straighter and after some hesitation took one of Bull’s hands. Bull looked at her, assessing her face keeping his carefully blank in an attempt to hide how desperate he was to stay in the tent, but if Dorian wanted him out he would go.

“No, he can stay, but…” Bull felt himself relax a little while Dorian trailed off and slumped again, his mouth forming a grimace. Then in a rush of breath, “A Red Templar forced himself on me, those are the injuries you saw, and I am worried that I will start growing red crystals. I know that the chances of this are small, but I thought that an enema might clean me out, wouldn’t give them a chance to settle. What if I start growing crystals? I…I couldn’t.” Dorian had become more frustrated and was clutching Bull’s hand harder and harder while his voice got louder and louder.

Bull in the meantime was starting to see red himself. _“Keep an open mind.”_ Now Bull knew what Dorian had meant, he’d meant stay, don’t become so focused on one thing…like mass slaughter and revenge. Oh, but it was tempting. Thinking of Dorian who was so proud and strong being used like that was driving him towards a red haze. Bull started to breathe deeply trying to curb his anger, trying to meditate and force down images of blood that were starting to seem so attractive. He managed, he focused on Dorian, how would Dorian feel if Bull literally ran out of the tent screaming? No, the mage would not appreciate that. The thought of Dorian’s reaction threw ice of the building rage immediately. He couldn’t do that to Dorian. He needed to stay, listen and _keep an open mind._

“Was there bodily penetration with his penis?” The doctor was speaking gently again, giving Dorian her full attention.

“Yes!” The mage snapped, Bull started rubbing the mage’s back gently, Dorian was getting understandably worked up. “I said that, didn’t I? Weren’t you listening? Didn't you see?” The doctor didn’t flinch but just nodded encouragingly. Bull continued to rub the mage’s back, he could feel the tremors beneath the man’s skin he wondered if he was going to explode.

Then she asked very softly, as if to a vicious tiger, “Did he ejaculate inside you?”

The noise Dorian made sounded unearthly, like a strangled wail and he slumped again, his grip loosening on Bull’s hand, but Bull wouldn’t allow it. He gripped Dorian harder and pulled the man towards him more, hoping to convey support and encouragement, but he had no idea if his presence was helping at all, he hoped it was. He felt useless, and he didn’t like that feeling. No words of comfort came and he despised himself for it all he could do was sit quietly, listen and rub the man’s back.

Eventually Dorian nodded. “That’s why I want the enema.” The Dorian was looking off somewhere, “he had red crystals growing on his back, and his eyes had that awful glow. I think he’d been taken by the crystals a long time ago, even his Armor was a part of him.” He shuddered then proceeded to explain what happened. How he fought and struggled but was continuously drugged or fuzzy from head injuries. As the story went on, he had abandoned looking at nothing and was talking at Bull, his brow furrowed as he emphasized repeatedly how hard he fought. And Bull just listened and nodded, he felt useless.

“And in the end, I was in too much pain, but I fought hard Bull.” Those silver-green eyes bore into his and they were filled with unshed tears, one blink and they would be falling like crystal drops down bronze cheeks.

Bull was being torn between rage, pride and sadness the effect being overwhelming, he couldn’t sit on one emotion, but he could reassure (it seemed that’s what the mage wanted) and he could still focus on Dorian. So, Bull sat up straight took Dorian’s bruised face in his hands gently stroking the already healing bruises, “I’m proud of how hard you fought _Kadan.”_

“You are? But it didn’t work. I was still overpowered, and I despise it.” He bit is already torn lips, worrying away at them, “You would have never allowed it.”

“Hey. Hey.” Bull allowed a little anger into his voice, “If I was hit on the head several times and drugged, what hope do you think I would have? None. So, you stop that. You fought, you didn’t allow this to happen no one ever does and I’m proud of you.” He meant it. Bull had always prided himself on how he controlled himself, he’d had to as a growing boy. He was stronger, bigger and more intimidating than other, plus training as a warrior meant that he needed to allow himself to break parts of he carefully constructed control off. He despised people who had no control, no mastery over themselves and who took control away from someone else to pretend that they did. Bull supposed he had never been a good Qun follower after all. He also would have had no chance against the Ventori by himself. It seemed they knew their target and had effectively cut off all talents. Bull would have been drugged out of him mind, his asset of strength rendered useless if he was constantly doped up and floppy.

There was a pause, and something seemed to settle in Dorian, the mage lost his crumpled brow and his hands came to rest over Bull’s hands on his face. He closed his eyes and smiled. Then turned to the doctor again.

“Do you think you could arrange that enema?”

The doctor who had been quietly observing the exchange nodded, “I’m sorry this happened to you Ser Pavus.”

“Dorian, please.”

“Of course. I’m sorry you went through this, and while I do not normally recommend a flushing after such events, your concern over the Red Lyrium is one to be taken seriously. However, to give you some comfort, from all the knowledge we know, for the Red Lyrium to take hold it must be either infused into the body or the subject must have continuous consumption. So, it is highly unlikely that you will become infected.”

“That is a relief and I did know all this, but hearing a healer say it gives one an enormous amount of relief rather than convincing oneself.” Dorian was nodding in approval.

“We will perform an enema and we will collect the water for testing. I’m not sure how long the testing will be, but we will monitor you carefully, I think fortnightly check-ups until we are certain will be for the best. Have you had an enema before?”

Dorian waved his hand around and Bull noticed that he was much more relaxed now, “Oh yes, they were all the rage back in Tevinter for a while.” Huh, now that was interesting.

The doctor nodded as she stood again moving towards the medicine table, “Why whatever for?”

“Oh, you know us ‘Vints, never do anything truly meaningful like exercise and start eating anything that isn’t saturated in sugar or has been sitting in wine for week. No to us, a health kick is squirting water up one’s rectum. I am also a man who prepares himself before vigorous intercourse, as a courtesy you see, for my…partner.” He stumbled a little then nodded with a serene look on his handsome face. Bull was touched. He didn’t realise Dorian had done something like that just for him. The man didn’t need to, Bull wasn’t fussy, and he hoped Dorian knew that. But for Dorian to take care of himself like that for Bull was flattering.

“Ah so you can administer one yourself.” The doctor said while Bull said, “I didn’t know that.”

The doctor floated away with her knowledge while Bull prodded at Dorian. Bull figured that Dorian was doing as well as he could if he was trying to get the doctor to blush (without success) he was doing okay, or at least trying for normalcy. Bull decided to continue despite what might not be a normal conversation topic for Dorian, but who knew Tevinter (besides Dorian) and their ‘normal.’

“You know you don’t have to do that for me.” Bull rubbed his thumb over Dorian’s watching the skin move around under him, enjoying how warm that smaller digit was.

“I don’t do it all the time. When do you think I have time to do such things when you insist on ‘blowing off steam’ at every damn camp Max makes?” Interesting, Dorian was blushing and studiously looking anywhere but at Bull. Bull could tease him more, or ease his anxiety, he knew both would probably be accepted well. Deciding that the man had had enough of a rough time for the while, he decided to be honest.

“Well, if you think that it’s a requirement for me back at Skyhold you know I don’t care.”

Dorian did look at him then, a soft but slightly challenging look in his eyes. “It is a _courtesy_ Bull. I…I cannot explain it to you.”

Bull leaned back and hummed, then with a leer that he hoped looked as silly and playful as he hoped he candidly asked, “Can I watch next time?” It was a trick. His question carefully chosen to show Dorian that things were okay, but more importantly that even though he thought Bull wouldn’t like him anymore because he was “weak” and that another man had forced himself on him, Bull still wanted him.

This time Dorian spluttered, he looked scandalized as his mouth opened and closed comically. “I! You. Are. Ridiculous!”

The doctor let out a small chuckle and came back with bandages and medicine. “Right, I’m going to bandage you up first and clean up some of those wounds. Then after that, I will fetch some water for your enema.”

 

oOo

 

Dorian watched as the doctor carefully dabbed at his bruises with poultice and potions, she swiped at cuts and grazes with efficiency and gentle thoroughness and all through this Bull didn’t stop touching him. Bull was still here, sitting next to him.

He had expected Bull to run off screaming, swinging his axe around and for a moment it had seemed that he would. The man’s breathing had become heavier, his eyes unfocused as he listening to Dorian recount his rape, but then something happened, and Bull was back present and listening. Offering his touch for comfort and looking directly at Dorian and not looking away.

_“I’m proud of you.”_ He had said, and Dorian had felt some of the pain slip away. Not all of it certainly. He was still angry, humiliated with himself and so very affronted. He was furious, but, Bull had stayed and Dorian thought that perhaps with Bull around his recovery would be a little smoother. Now he just had to tell Max which would probably end up being a meaningful chatting session if how much the rogue liked to talk and ask questions was anything to go by.

Then the great oaf had started asking about how Dorian prepared himself for him before they had sex. Honestly it wasn’t that much of a big deal, but Bull made it seem like it was. Despite all the rot and corruption that Tevinter contained, Dorian thought there was one value that was worth hanging on to: etiquette. Not specifically how to treat partners and certainly not male lovers, but etiquette and courtesy in general, one received a general but stern lesson about the intricacies of social etiquette and then applied them to every situation one was presented with. So, Dorian liked to prepare himself for Bull as a courtesy. He simply couldn’t explain.

Then, _then_ the madman had asked if he could watch with that stupid grin on his face and Dorian’s brain scattered like a skittish nug. As he spluttered out a frankly pathetic insult he had balked. He knew Bull wasn’t being serious, but there was the possibility that he _would_ like to watch. There was something strangely intimate about Bull wanting to see but Dorian couldn’t understand why. Bull had been _inside him, come_ inside him, quite a lot, Maker his _tongue_ had even been inside him, how could anything be more intimate than _that_ , and yet…

“There, all done. I’ll go fetch the water.” The doctor stood and left the tent, leaving Dorian and Bull alone again. Dorian stood, wincing a little and felt Bull place a warm steadying his hand on hip. He pushed a little, so Dorian was facing him.

“Uh, you know that I was just teasing about watching before, but you realise you’re getting one now right? Do you want me to go?” Bull looked serious again. “I’d like to be here in case anything, you know.” He waved his hand vaguely.

_In case anything goes wrong, like the sample has red crystals in it and I fall apart then insist that you kill me before I turn._ Dorian didn’t say it, instead he looked away at the tent flap and said, “I would have thought Max would be back by now.”

Something passed over Bull’s eyes and if Dorian didn’t know better he’d had thought that it might have been jealousy. He quickly recovered the situation, “I don’t expect he would want to walk in on me getting an enema, despite how free he is with his affections.”

Bull’s eye lit up again, “I dunno. If anyone would be up for joining us it would be him. I’m surprised he hasn’t asked already. He’s pretty forward.” He now had both his massive hands on Dorian’s hips and was running his thumbs back and forth along the bone he no doubt felt through that awful Venatori robe that Dorian had wrapped around his waist like a skirt during his examination and treatment. Bull was staring up at him a strange look on his face, he looked…fond.

“Hmm” Dorian intoned then looked down. He sighed and planted his hand on the crown of Bull’s head, “Very well you can stay. But how can we make this less embarrassing for me? I think I’ve had enough humiliation for a while.”

“You realise I’ve shoved my tongue inside you right? And you moaned and groaned like…”

“Yes, yes. Thank you for your vulgar description of our sex life.” Dorian huffed and crossed his arms. Trust Bull to say exactly what Dorian had been thinking earlier.

“All I’m saying is that you don’t need to be embarrassed around me.” Bull had stood and enfolded Dorian into his massive arms, the mage didn’t have the heart to resist, not when a hug was something he had been craving while he was captured. He nuzzled into the top of Bull’s stomach, then stood on his toes to plant that kiss on the man’s sternum like he had wanted to before. He felt Bulls’ pectorals flex and hid a grin against that solid chest.

“I know what we can do. How about we wrap you up good. You can have a nest of blankets around you, over your head if you want and I’ll hold you. How does that sound? People who are embarrassed want to hide right? This way you can hide but I’ll still be here if you want.” A hand stroked down his back, “This way if anyone walks in too you’ll be covered.”

Dorian conceded, “Yes, that sounds alright, but Bull. I don’t think I could stand being laughed at right now. So if you are going to…”

“ _Kadan_. I’m not going to laugh. This is you getting a medical treatment to make you feel better and to keep you safe. This is serious to you, so it will be for me.” Bull was swaying gently to and fro in an imaginary dance, and Dorian was pulled into its soothing rhythm. “I will hold you, we’ll do this together, and there will be no laughing.”

Dorian relaxed and ran his hands along Bull’s massive arms as much as he could. Content that he was finally where he wanted to be: pressed up against his _Amatus_ with the faint sounds of battle drifting into the tent on the wind.


	10. A small request (I accidentally didn't post this chapter originally)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops! I missed this chapter. I blame being in hospital and my brain being broken.
> 
> Apologies!

Dorian was soaking in the skin to skin contact with Bull when the doctor came back in with two small buckets he said nothing as she obviously moved around getting the equipment together putting it on the cot for Dorian to use.

“There now, this is everything. Take a seat again Dorian.” She passed him the equipment. “Do you know how to use this one?”

Dorian inspected it, it was a simple enough device, nozzle, pump, reservoir ‘just insert, pump and feel like the Magister you are’ as they had advertised in Tevinter. He nodded and handed back the implements.

“Now, this is the important part. I want you to collect a sample in this jar,” she presented a rather large glass container and Dorian took it, “If possible at all I want you to expel one of these containers of fluid before you collect the sample.”

Dorian nodded, “Sounds simple enough.”

“It would be, but considering your circumstances if moving your muscles hurts you, you should stop. I haven’t warmed the water, I thought you might want to do that. But here is an elfroot potion that I want you to mix with the second bucket, pour it all in and mix it around. That should help with healing.”

She handed over the bottle then stood, “Now I’ll give you some privacy, simply come out of the tent when you have finished, and you can leave the sample on the table there. I will come straight back in once you come fetch me.” She leaned over, so she was eye to eye with Dorian. “You’ve done very well Dorian. If you need anymore medical attention or assistance after this, please come see me. And The Iron Bull, if you would like me to do anything about your scars…” She gestured vaguely with her hand towards the whole of Bull’s person but laughed when he looked genuinely mortified at the suggestion.

Warmed by the healer’s kindness Dorian held out his hand and took hers. Her skin was thin and soft, the hands of an experienced healer. How many hand had these hands comforted? Dorian felt infinitely grateful that he had met this woman. He kissed the back of her hand, “Thank you doctor…” He fished for her name.

“Doc is fine. I enjoy the informality.” She answered simply.

“Your accent? It’s different. You aren’t from around here are you?” Bull asked.

“No, I’m not.” The healer smiled cryptically then, straight-backed and dignified she walked to the entrance of the tent.

Dorian sighed after her, “She’s wonderful.”

Bull chuckled, “Switching sides kadan? Should I be worried?” He nuzzled into Dorian’s neck and Dorian could feel the grin against his skin.

“Hardly.” He accompanied his simple statement with a stroke across Bull’s shaved head enjoying the stubble against his fingers, the texture scratching delightfully against his skin. He wondered if Bull would let him shave it for him.

“Dorian? Bull?” A call came from the front of the tent and a strange clanging on the wooden post holding up the front of the tent, “Can I come in?”

Dorian stood and went to straighten his robes but remembering he wasn’t wearing any his hands fell uselessly to his side, “Max is here.” He was about to go open the tent flap when Bull caught his hand and pulled him to sit again.

“Come on in Boss!”

“Is he knocking on the tent pole with his dagger?” Dorian was both mortified and titillated by the Inquisitor’s casual use his weapons and the nonchalance with which he wielded them, even as a knocking device.

Max appeared, pushing apart the tent flaps and as Dorian correctly assumed, was sheathing one of his vicious looking daggers. It was worthy of a painting Dorian thought. The bright sun framing the Inquisitors silhouette as he came into the relatively dark tent. The rogue stopped, blinking rapidly before seeing Bull and Dorian and a grin split his face. “Dorian! I was so worried!” He quickly came over, arms obviously itching to hug the mage like an over excited Mabari pup. He bent down and carefully hugged the top of Dorian’s torso, ever mindful of the bandages that now covered the mage’s chest.

The Inquisitor rested his head against Dorian’s shoulder and breathed a shuddering breath. His shoulders were trembling and Dorian could feel the unreleased tension in Max’s arms around him. They enveloped carefully, but his fingers kept moving and gently gripping like the flesh they were holding couldn’t be close enough.  Dorian looked over at Bull whose look of concern mirrored his own. “I’m sorry Max to have worried you so and for having to use Inquisition resources to come get me.”

“That is a stupid thing to say and I’m going to ignore it.” His voice was muffled and he was breathing deeply, “I’m allowed to play favourites, I never asked for any of this. I’m not as benevolent as people think and I am only human.” Eventually the man straightened and Dorian saw that his eyes were red, but no tears had fallen. Then the rogue gave a dashing smile.

Dorian always thought it interesting to watch Maxwell Trevelyan reconstruct his walls, it was a smooth easy process with little indication of transition, he was very good. His training in the noble house in Ostwick obviously had a bearing on that, his training as a rogue probably honed the art even further. Dorian thought that Max, with coaching, could even survive in Tevinter politics, apart from the fact that the man was magically inept.

He didn’t let go of Dorian’s shoulder as he stood up completely and obviously saw the buckets and pump. “Tevinter health kick?” He asked raising an eyebrow and smiling a little at Dorian. He sighed and looked down, reaching up to lay his hand over the top of the one still on his shoulder.

“Something happened Inquisitor, while I was captured, such that I have requested an enema.” Dorian was now looking at his best friend who was not a simple-minded man (despite his  frequent  moments of apparent stupidity like dodge rolling off a scaffold just to prove he could or like the was controlled with a giant invisible hand that made a mistake), and he saw the exact moment when he put two-and-two together. There was an imperceptible clenching of his jaw and a darkness that seeped into those normally bright but tired eyes. Strangely enough his whole body seemed to relax more, like he was about to go slinking into the shadows, silent and deadly.

“Do I need to go kill someone in particular?” His voice was quiet and clear and his eyes flicked towards Bull and held the other man’s gaze for a moment. Dorian saw silent conversation they were having and felt the bloodlust raise in the room almost exponentially. He quickly defused the two alpha personalities bonding in mutual desire for revenge.

“Is there anyone left still alive?” He made his tone flippant, “I thought they would fight to the death.”

Max quickly looked disappointed and the tension in the room dropped immediately. He sighed, “Some ran away through the canyon and I was in the tunnels, so I couldn’t issue a command to pursue, Cullen’s not here either to make those commands for me he stayed back at the other camp to help run it. Some of them exploded when we captured them.”

“A suicide spell?” Dorian wasn’t surprised.

“Yes, they just…” He motioned with his hands, putting his fists together then flicked his fingers apart. In a crude but eeirily accuraqte display of what the bodies did.

“How appropriately morbid for my countrymen. Was anyone hurt?”

Max shook his head, “Well, Ranes did get clocked on the head with what was apparently a rib, but he was wearing his helmet.” Max shook his head, “Some of the younger members might need some extra care tonight, but the veterans, a lot of them are insisting that they’ve seen worse.”

Bull chimed in, “A lot of them have, and not even from war but from wildlife.” Dorian knew that Bull had seen many horrific things in Seheron. The larger man sometimes, but not often, woke in a sweat with night terrors sneaking around the room insisting that he needed to be ready for an attack and that Dorian needed to cast a barrier around them. Once Dorian had awoken to Bull standing next to Dorian’s side of the bed, a massive dark figure heaving in the moonlight, he was as beautiful as he was terrifying. His axe was clutched in his hands while he crouched low and growled at the door. “Stay behind me _Kadan_. Stay behind me.” It had warmed Dorian to think that even in his terrors his thought was to protect Dorian, but it saddened him to think that he was now another thing that weighed on Bull’s mind, something the terrors could use to upset the large man. He had no idea why Qunari insisted they didn’t dream.

Dorian had formed a light wisp to grow steadily brighter and brighter to mimic the sun to force the Bull into full consciousness, gently pulling him out of his terror until he had straightened, blinked, yawned then swore. Dorian assured the Bull with kisses and lured him back to sleep, the poor man even more tired after not sleeping properly.

Dorian reached out and patted the back of Bull’s hand and rubbed the scarred flesh there. “Anyway, I’m alive, I’m here, you’re both here and when we get back to Skyhold you and I will talk over a glass of vinegar that apparently passes for wine.” Dorian stood and squeezed Max’s arm.

“Promise?” It wasn’t a question, more of a statement that Max made.

“Yes, I promise.”

The Inquisitor squinted at Dorian, scrutinising him before finally nodding. “Okay, we’re heading straight back to Skyhold once we’ve cleaned up a bit. You need to rest. You’ll ride in a wagon. Bull, Krem has control of the Chargers for now so you can relax and stay with Dorian.” He turned again and pulled the mage into his arms, “I’m so glad you’re here Dorian.” He gave another quick squeeze before pulling away with a grin and moving to exit the tent.

“Wait, Inquisitor!” Dorian suddenly halted the rogues exit. He turned quickly and took a few steps back towards the pair.

“What’s wrong?” His voice sounded worried.

“Oh nothing important.” Dorian sighed, he hated asking favours from people, but he didn’t think he wanted to go back into those tunnels. “But I was wondering if you would do me a small favour if you are heading back into the tombs.”

Max just tilted his head in question.

“You may see a big stone alter, round. Lots of candles and ritual paraphernalia scattered round.”

The Inquisitor stepped closed and his voice was gentle, “Yes, we passed one that lead to some tunnels where we found your cell.”

Dorian breathed carefully, they had seen the room where it happened of course they had, Dorian remembered being carried through it, nausea started to rise up in him at the thought so he pushed it down to ask his request, “I was wondering if you could perhaps chip off a part of it? Maybe ask Rocky to blow it up and then collect two fist-sized chunks for me?”

“That’s a strange request Dorian. Will I learn why eventually?”

“Yes, yes I will tell you later.”

“Consider it done.” The rogue nodded his head and turned again to quickly finish up the rest of the now Venatori-killing mission.

Dorian sighed into the silence that followed, he did notice that Bull was taking a while to say anything. When he finally did his voice sounded carefully, like he was trying to sooth.

“Are you going to tell me too?”

“It is nothing earth shattering I will tell you later too.” Bull nodded.

“I know what you did before, stopping me and the boss. You aren’t subtle.”

Dorian flicked his hands towards the buckets expertly warming the water, “I’ll have you know I am the epitome of grace and misdirection. All of which is always done with the utmost skill.”

“Yeah. No.” Bull stood to stretch and came over to hug Dorian from behind, “But whatever you want to believe Dorian.” The mage huffed a laugh in response. Bull peered over Dorian’s shoulder down at the buckets. “Hmm. I can’t wait to get you back to Skyhold where you can show me you doing this, then I can fuck you while you’re wet and leaking.”

Dorian just clucked his tongue in disgust but the slight shudder and his hands pulling Bull’s arms around tighter around him said something entirely different.


	11. All Together Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eating dinner!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> URG.
> 
> Trying to fix all my chapters after I realized that I forgot to post one. It's harder than I thought -_- Hopefully everything is sorted now.  
> Sorry for the confusion!

The camp that night had a satisfied atmosphere to it, and if Dorian was going to be completely honest with himself, all the camp fires dotted around and the black-blue night sky filled with stars of every size glittering daintily made for a very cosy and pretty picture. The Inquisition had successfully cleared out a large Ventori cell and managed to set some slaves free too. It was a huge blow to Corypheus’ forces and everyone was celebrating.

Dorian picked his way through the camp slowly, he had been asleep (again) for a few hours when he awoke to ravenous hunger, so he was out of the tent and hunting for something he could hold down. His and the inner circles’ tents were higher up on a rocky hill that overlooked the rest of the camp and they had their own rather large fire, their tents were a little away from the fire so he still had some metres to walk.

As soon as he was visible in the firelight, a blanket wrapped around himself, Varric called enthusiastically, “Sparkler! Welcome back!”

Everyone turned to look at him and a few stood. Dorian was humbled. They honestly did not have to come save him, he would just be another casualty of a war, but they did. He bowed as low as he could, using his blanket as a makeshift cape. When he straightened he looked down unable to meet their eyes, “Thank you all. Thank you for coming to get me. You didn’t have to…”

“Nonsense Sparkler. Of course we did. You’re one of us.” Varric interrupted him and Dorian was grateful, he didn’t enjoy being the centre of attention like this, being in debt to so many people.

“Come sit Dorian.” Max was smiling at him while Bull had come up to him, hovering with just a hand on Dorian’s back. Dorian thought perhaps Bull didn’t look too happy and wondered what was wrong.

Everyone was sitting on crates and Dorian took one next to Max while Bull moved his next to him. “Are you sure you should be up? Shouldn’t you be resting?”

Ah, so that’s why Bull didn’t look pleased Dorian realised. He was mother-henning. “I am fine. I think my stomach woke me up, I’m not sure when I last ate.”

Bull’s face constricted, and he frowned deeply. He quickly stood up and went to the pot that was hanging over the fire, when he lifted the lid the sweet smell of spices and meat drifted to Dorian and his moth watered. In the silence of the night his stomach growled at an alarming volume. It broke the spell and everyone laughed and went back to chatting.

“Make sure you eat enough, but don’t make yourself sick.” Max was not sitting on his box but was reclining on the ground and leaning on an elbow. His black hood was up and he had his long pipe out that he was smoking leisurely. He had mysterious, deadly and sexy all conquered, which was such a contradiction when he was being the clueless airhead sometimes, perhaps it was all a front, if it was, it was a very good one. More than once Dorian had decided he was very glad that he was considered a friend of the man rather than an enemy, still, Dorian sighed at being mothered by two of his friends but didn’t have time to complain when a bowl of stew was all but shoved under his nose.

Gratefully he looked up at Bull and smiled his thanks before carefully spooning some into his mouth. It spread over his tongue and Dorian closed his eyes in bliss. It was still hot, the vegetables were just soft enough so his injured jaw didn’t hurt when he chewed and the thick gravy was rich and savoury, it was such a simple dish with no real complexity above meat, vegetable, water and some spice but Dorian wanted to cry over it. It tasted like home. Not Tevinter but there was something subtly familiar about it in the taste, but home, with Bull and Max and these strange rag-tag people that fate had thrown together. As Dorian stirred the stew around breathing in its aroma he again realised how close he had been to never having any of this again it scared him but his heart started warming as he gazed at the brown coloured dish. He had survived, his friends had come for him and the fates had decided that he could have another chance.

Dorian spooned the next mouthful in quickly, renewed and hungry. He chewed carefully due to his injured lips and jaw, but with might and when Bull plopped a roll into the stew he dropped the spoon and started tearing at the bread with his fingers, dipping it into the stew and savouring the gravy soaked loaf.

“Careful lad, don’t lose a finger.” Blackwall called over the fire.

Dorian swallowed the latest mouthful (after all it would not do to speak with one’s mouth full), “I’ll have you know that I am an expert at eating with my fingers, after all many Tevinter dishes are designed to be eaten in such a way, the tactile connection to the food an appreciation just as important as the taste.” His cultural lesson over, he continued eating.

Dorian soaked in the casual camaraderie of the inner circle and enjoyed the warmth of the fire and drank the warmed mulled wine that was handed to him. Who had made it he didn’t know, but he sat there wrapped in a blanket, stew in his lap with a warm drink and Bull watching him closely from the crate next to him. Dorian was as happy as he could be considering the circumstances.

It soon became clear that the group was waiting for him to finish eating to tell his story. When the last bit of gravy had been swept up by crusty soft bread he set his bowl aside and began. It wasn’t one of the Charger’s epic or wacky adventures, no, this story had gravity, and the group listened both with the intent of learning of Dorian’s torture and to see if anything could be used against Corypheus.

They winced at appropriate parts when he explained his beating and hypothesised about what the cell was doing. It wasn’t a pretty story but when Dorian started to tell of how he was purposely trying to be a shit it had them laughing.

And when he explained how he interrupted the first ritual attempt there was a shocked silence for five long seconds before Sera fell off her crate in peals of hysterical laughter and everyone else followed suit.

“You wot? You serious?!” Her voice was broken up by laughter.

“That is disgusting.” Vivienne did not look pleased, “But very good thinking. I think the acid in your bile alone would have been enough to disrupt the delicate ingredients used to draw the symbols.” Dorian thought he heard a little praise in there despite how obviously put-out the first enchanter was.

“Hey boss. That can be our new slogan. ‘The Inquisition. We will shit on all your plans.’” Bull laughed leaning over Dorian to poke at the still prone Max.

“That is not going to happen!” Max sounded affronted but he was grinning.

Dorian continued with his story but carefully left out his rape and the apparent success of the second ritual. Max (who Dorian knew had figured it out) and Bull thankfully did not correct him, they were sensitive enough to know that some things were private. Dorian ended the story with Bull’s heroic and massive figure standing in the door way to the cell and the relief he felt when he saw the hulking figure.

“After that, things are a bit of a blur, I think my body started to shut down knowing I was safe now. I do remember that Bull carried me out and that the Venatori were dying very noisily, I was quite put out with their screams of anguish, it hurt my head.” He heard Bull chuckle next to him.

“So you don’t know what the ritual was for? You didn’t recognise it?” Max asked what everyone was thinking.

Dorian shook his head, “No. It was…it was a blood ritual. I’ve made it a habit of mine not to know what those are. Were there any papers in the tunnels?”

“Too many.” Max groaned.

“Ah, I did see a few symbols and smaller glyphs close to the edge of the alter but not enough to make an educated guess, perhaps if I were to examine the papers found in the tunnels I can uncover what they were trying to do and we can prevent it.”

“You were the one they tried to do it on. Seems like it’s your right to investigate.” Dorian noticed the use of “tried” and felt guilty, he would have to tell Max soon. It would have to be soon…and Bull. How would Bull react? He had left that part out of the story too when he was telling the doctor in the tent. He feared telling Bull more than telling the Inquisitor. The thought of it was enough to give Dorian pause. Their relationship was so fragile, so new, it wasn’t even a “relationship” they had never discussed it. What would happen to them with this news? That Dorian had been part of a blood ritual, it may have been successful and that it may have done something to him? Dorian didn’t know what would happen. His logical mind offered some comfort helping him remember that Bull was more wary of demons than blood magic, he didn’t seem to have the same knee-jerk reaction towards it that Fereldans had, perhaps he would be okay? Dorian decided not to tell him yet, their…’something’ was too new he didn’t want to spoil it, the fear of losing Bull almost broke him out into a sweat.

“About the rescue, you’ve just reminded me.” Max sat up a bit abandoning the topic, “What was with you two?” He pointed at Varric and Blackwall with the stem and bit of his pipe.

Varric smiled and Blackwall’s face went sour. “Ah we just had a little wager. Nothing more.”

“You placed a bet on me?” Dorian’s voice came out a little higher than he wanted.

“Now now, it wasn’t anything sinister. I bet that you could come out of the tunnels being carried and Hero here thought you’d be too proud or annoying and would walk out of the tunnels yourself.”

“So, you bet on me being alive?” Dorian was shocked and a little pleased.

“Course we did. Never doubted it.”

“Why did you bet I would be carried?” Dorian had no idea where the dwarf’s mind went sometimes.

“Simple deduction. Tiny has been in a state,” Varric chuckled, “You should’ve seen him Sparkler. All broody, quiet and deadly.” Dorian glanced at Bull, but the man just shrugged one of his massive shoulders. “Anyway, he was in the spear group. When he found you, there was no way that he was going to let you walk out of there. Easy 100 royals.” Varric sounded smug and everyone dissolved into argument about how that was too much money and that Varric had no idea that that would happen.

There was something there, something in what Varric had said that was deeper than he or Bull had ever discussed, not that they ever discussed things as important as feelings. They had exchanged endearments, but Dorian knew that _Kadan_ was quite universal, that Bull could use it simply for someone he respected greatly, like Max. _Amatus_ was… _Amatus_ was more, Dorian realised, not because of the word, but because of him. He did not call people ‘beloved’ on a whim, no it had to be earned, and apparently the ex-Qunari mercenary captain had earned it. Dorian didn’t know what to think other than the age-old realisation that he was much more romantic and desperate for love and affection than he allowed himself to realise (usually). So, he pushed the thought aside and payed attention to the group.

Dorian just listened feeling warm, the doubt that had started creeping into his mind dissipating back into the darkness. They had never doubted that he would get out, they always knew that they were coming to get him. While they might doubt him, especially once they knew a second ritual had been performed, Dorian decided that he would never doubt them.

Tiredness came over him quickly and suddenly. One minute he was listing to Sera rant on about using nugs in battle and the next it was Cassandra discussing what had happened with the troops after the battle. Dorian took it as a sign that it was time to retire for the night despite it being still quite early for any of the members of the inner circle.

He stood and stretched effectively silencing the group. “I’m afraid I’m more tired than I realised.” His sentence finished with a yawn.

“Of course, you are. You’re recovering.” Solas spoke up, it was strange, Dorian hadn’t even noticed he was there. “The body heals best when at rest. Listen to it and go.”

Dorian nodded but before he went he stopped, “Thank you all again for coming for me. I can never repay you for this. I will not waste my time here.” They all lifted their cups or saluted in response, and Dorian bowed a little then shuffled off the sound of friendly banter flowing him all the way to the tent.

Bull was close behind him.

 

oOo

 

“Is he okay Bull?” The Inquisitor was talking quietly to Bull as they began setting up for the night. It was his turn to prepare the meal, something all the companions agreed with when travelling in a larger group. Only one of them were to ever prepare the meal for the inner circle. It was hard but a necessary point of paranoia that they stuck to.

They were standing at a makeshift kitchen bench, Trevelyan cutting washed vegetables with knives that were thankfully not his own poison covered ones. Bull stood next to him, hands behind his back not touching the food.

“He’s doing good boss. Really good. You’re going to hear things you don’t like though.”

“He was raped wasn’t he? That’s why he wanted the enema.” The ‘chop chop’ sound of the vegetables got slightly louder.

“He’ll have to tell you Boss, not my place to say.” The Inquisitor had his hood up so Bull couldn’t see any of the man’s facial expressions, but the rhythm of his chopping nor his body stance changed, damn the man was good.

“He shouldn’t sleep for too long. He needs to eat.” Max threw the carrots into the large waiting pot. Honestly it was mountain of vegetables because of how many were being fed and there were three big eating warrior and Max, who was smaller and fit but ate like his legs were hollow.

“Inquisitor, Chief?” Krem’s voice sounded through the darkness.

Bull turned and called back, “Over here Krem.” His lieutenant saw them and made his way over. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

“Got those rocks you wanted Inquisitor.” Krem held up a cloth bag that sagged with weight.

“Thank you Krem. Sorry for the unusual request.”

The man just shrugged and put the bag on the table, “No problem when Rocky gets to blow something up. Was a nice end to the day.” He eyed the mountain of vegetables and meat on another dish but said nothing. “How is the Altus?”

“He’s good Krem. Resting and healing.” Bull picked up the bag and peered inside. Two unremarkable stones sat inside. Krem hovered.

“I understand this is against your rules Inquisitor, but I thought you might like to use some of this in your stew tonight. Krem held out a small brown leather pouch that looked like it was for tobacco, but Krem didn’t smoke so Bull knew what it was and he was impressed that Krem was willing to share.

“What is it?” The boss was leaning over the pouch obviously looking in.

“Spices from Tevinter. It’s something both the Altus and I like. I thought it might do some good to remind him that there are some things out of Tevinter that aren’t shit or fucked up.”

“That’s really thoughtful Krem.” Max stated as he pulled out a small vial half filled with liquid from his belt pouch and uncorked it. “Mix it around and I’ll put some in here to test it.”

Krem did so with no protest understanding the importance of poison testing when the Inquisitor was eating out in the field. Max used his knife to spoon out a tiny amount, drop it into the vial and shook it vigorously. The clear liquid didn’t change in colour and the rogue nodded and threw the small vial into the fire without even looking. It popped with a strange cloud of green smoke and disappeared.

“It’s pretty strong stuff, so even though you’ve got a whole lot of stew here you probably only need two good pinches.” He handed the pouch to Bull, then waved and left. Max went back to chopping.

“You asked him to bring it didn’t you?” Bull thought he could hear the smirk in the Inquisitor’s voice.

“Maybe. Where do you want these rocks boss?”

The man pointed with his knife toward his tent (the man was seriously too comfortable around the small implements of death), “Leave it in the trunk outside my tent, I’ll secure it later.” Bull left the spice pouch on the table and left with the rocks.

Now that Dorian was back Bull felt strangely out of sorts. He had been so keen to get the mage back safely he hadn’t had time to sort out what he was feeling. That moment when he lost control the first day that had been unacceptable. His preference for the mage over others in a mercenary job was also unacceptable, everyone needed to be treated equally he knew that, and yet the mage took precedent over all. This was not a comforting development. Sighing he deposited the rocks into the trunk that the Inquisitor pointed to and let it fall shut again.

Bull went to the fire and poked it a bit to turn the logs, everyone else was preparing for dinner; changing, cleaning resting a bit before eating. Here he was, yet again, not doing what he was supposed to. When had the mage started to consume most of his mind? What would happen one day if there was a choice between the mage and the Inquisitor. The Inquisitor was by far the most important person for the world and no doubt Dorian would know that too, he should be the rescued one, but when Bull thought about it, he was shocked that he would really struggle to make the decision. He would make the right one eventually – he supposed – but the fact that he would stumble in thought was disturbing.

He sat heavily on a crate and took out his small ankle daggers to clean and sharpen them. Nothing like mindless rote work to help with thinking.

He was still sitting there half zoning out and half sharpening when the rest of the crew wandered in and took place by the fire. Bowls and bread were handed out, then the Inquisitor spooned everyone a generous helping of the stew. Bull hadn’t even noticed it had been cooking nor the rogue cooking it. He frowned, forcing himself to pay attention to what was going on around him.

They had all finished eating and cleaned their bowls away when Dorian stepped into the light and Bull’s heart squeezed. He couldn’t stop it. The mage looked beaten and tired, but strong and comfortable wrapped in a blanket. It was probably telling how much he was in pain if he didn’t mind dragging his bedding out like a humongous blankie. He didn’t know if he should be up just yet, perhaps sleep a little longer, Bull would have brought him his meal in the tent.

Bull stood and slowly went to him as he stumbled through a thank you. He didn’t want to crowd the mage, but his body told him to touch, so he did by placing one of his hands-on Dorian’s back as a guide, the mage didn’t really need to know that Bull was waiting for him just in case he fell.

“Are you sure you should be up? Shouldn’t you be resting?” Dorian fixed him with a curious look then smiled.

“I am fine. I think my stomach woke me up, I’m not sure when I last ate.” Dorian wandered over to the fire and Bull could have punched himself. Of course the mage was hungry, here Bull though that he would just be sleeping but he was fit and relatively healthy, probably hadn’t been fed in the time he was captured and he had been awoken by an angry stomach. Bull felt bad for not waking the mage and forcing him to eat a snack at least.

He went straight to the pot and started spooning out the mage’s share, turning to give it to the man while he was talking to the others. Bull watched him as he took the first spoonful and almost stopped breathing. Dorian ate that one spoon like it was the best thing he had ever tasted then stared into the bowl deep in thought, a serious but calm air surrounding him. Then he picked up the spoon and began eating faster. With each bite he seemed to get stronger, happier. It wasn’t enough. He needed more.

Bull got up again and went to the “kitchen bench” when the bread had been left and covered, it wasn’t hot or warm, but it was hearty and well made. He dropped into the mage’s stew and stood there expecting resistance but Dorian only smiled at him again then started tearing into the bread with his fingers.

Was it strange that Bull was a little aroused? He watched Dorian’s jaw move and his cheeks hollow as he chewed, each swallow was more life and nutrients into the man, he wanted to reach out and touch his face, hold his throat as he swallowed, to feel him working, to feel how alive he was.

When Blackwall made a comment Bull was worried Dorian would stop eating so enthusiastically, but the mage quipped back and continued digging in and Bull could continue to watch in peace.

When he finished he fulfilled everyone’s wishes by discussing his ordeal. Everyone listened carefully and for once Varric was not taking notes even when Dorian talked about his attempting to provoke his kidnappers.

“I must say I never expected to be put on another altar, nor for a person other than my father to try and perform a blood ritual on me. Surely once for one person is already the limit?” Dorian spoke tiredly.

“How did you know it was a blood ritual?” Blackwall questioned, his tone curious rather than accusatory.

“I could smell it when I was close to it. When I turned my head I could see symbols in dark red, some places where the chalk had mixed it was an unsightly red. I was really quite angry, I felt useless. Had yourself, Cassandra or Bull been there, I’m sure you would have put up much more of a fight than me. I thought to myself, ‘If only I knew self-defence, grappling or something.’”

There was that self-doubt again and Bull was about to correct him when Cassandra beat him to it, “I doubt any of us would have been able to do much Dorian, but if you think you need close combat training, any of us would be happy to teach you.”

Dorian nodded, “I did manage to bite one man’s arm. Unfortunately, that was the most I could do, a rather large Red Templar quickly ensured that I could no longer struggle.”

“What’d he do?” Sera was holding her knees and rocking, staring at Dorian. The man made a fist and mimicked being hit in the temple, everyone winced. “That why you got those weird marks there?”

Dorian looked puzzled, “I suppose I must, do they look like gauntlet imprints? I have not had the chance to look in a mirror yet. I don’t think I want to.”

“Nah it’s like three lines innit? ‘S fine.” She waved her hand in dismissal.

“Anyway,” Dorian rushed on, “I was in quite a state, very dizzy, very nauseous, more than crossing that blasted sea on my way over here from Tevinter. But I was determined to interrupt their hideous ritual, what could I do? As a mage I know of summoning circles and ritual circles and they can be disrupted if you ruin the fine work of the symbols, even the smallest disruption can change what was intended. So I tried to wriggle back and forward to smudge the symbols at my back, but it wasn’t working. A pain started in my chest. It was…it was very scary.”

Bull watched the faces of the inner circle, they all had different expressions. Sera looked appropriately horrified, Vivienne and Solas both had knowing looks, Blackwall was frowning, Cassandra looked sympathetic and Varric was nodding. He couldn’t see Max’s face and he had no idea where Cole was. Their looks and silence only encouraged Dorian to continue.

“I wanted no part of this ritual and I keen to stop it, and so I kept thinking what can I do to shit on all their plans for me? So that’s what I did.”

There was silence. Then there was a tiny “Wait…what?” Before the group exploded in laughter. Bull himself laughed, it was such a good strategy. ‘Use everything’ was part of Ben-Hassrath training, so it didn’t shock Bull. People were calling out questions like “Wouldn’t piss be better? It would wash away the symbols” and “How much was there so that you could disrupt it?!”

Dorian sat through it all with a dignified (and if Bull could read the man’s face correctly) and a delighted smile.

Bull leaned over to poke at Max’s prone form, “Hey boss. That can be our new slogan. ‘The Inquisition. We will shit on all your plans.’”

The man smacked his arm away and chastised him, but he was grinning too. After a while people settled down again but were still muttering about ‘shitting on plans’ and Dorian continued his story. He left out his rape and Bull was not going to correct him, Dorian would share that when he was ready or he wouldn’t, it was up to him.

As Bull watched Dorian he noticed that the man’s energy was starting to flag. He was less animated and he moved his arms less. Bull didn’t even know if the man himself noticed but he pulled the blanket closer around himself. When Dorian got tired he became colder and Bull could always tell when Dorian was exhausted when his teeth started chattering. His jaw was starting to wobble.

Everyone continued to talk, but Bull watched Dorian and sure enough, after a while the man was basically asleep sitting up. Gently and carefully, Bull ran his hand down the mage’s blanketed back to wake him. Dorian sat up and blinked looking confused and even more tired after his cat-nap.

He stood up and stretched, “I’m afraid I’m more tired than I realised.”

“Of course, you are. You’re recovering. The body heals best when at rest. Listen to it and go.” Bull was surprised at the kind tone in Solas’ voice, generally he and Dorian snipped at each other at best and were nasty to each other at worst.

Dorian said his ‘thank yous’ again and headed off to his tent and Bull followed.

Once inside Dorian went straight for his low sleeping pallet that was covered in furs and sat down gingerly before lowering himself to lay down.

“Your shoes _Kadan._ ”

“Hmm? Oh?” Dorian peered down at a foot, ignored that it had a boot and started burrowing under his covers. “It’s cold, I’ll leave them on.”

Bull tutted fondly, “You’ll be uncomfortable.” And he started taking the boots off for Dorian. The man looked like he was already asleep and Bull had to nudge him awake, “Your medicine. Take it.” He nodded at the small table left beside the head of the pallet.

“Urg.” Dorian glared at the various bottles.

“Do it.” Bull made sure his voice had the authority that it sounded like he would force Dorian to drink the potions if he didn’t do it himself. He got up and moved to get another blanket, he had no doubt Dorian would need at least one more. As his back was turned he heard the tell-tale tinkle of crystal bottles and corks being popped. When he came back to lay the blanket over the man he saw that the mage was somehow drinking while lying down. He raised his eyebrow.

Dorian finished the potion and waved it, “A skill I developed in my misspent youth. It is much easier to do with a tiny potion bottle than a whole bottle of wine stolen from mother’s cellar.”

Bull chuckled and sat down, tucking Dorian in. The mage was quiet but when Bull reached across him to tuck that side of the blanket in, Dorian’s hand came out to pat his arm, “You take such good care of people.” His quiet voice was loud in the silence of the tent.

Bull sat back as shame filled him, he couldn’t look at Dorian.

“Bull?”

“No, I don’t.” Bull sighed and clasped his hands together.

Dorian’s sleepy eyes blinked at him, “Whatever do you mean? Did you not just take off my boots? Make sure I took my medicine? Get an extra blanket for me?”

“No. If I had taken proper care of you, you would never have been taken.”

There was no immediate response from Dorian and when he spoke his voice sounded dangerously low, “Do you think I can’t take care of myself?”

“No, that’s not what I meant.”

“Do you think I’m weak? That I need you to protect me at all times?”

“No _Kadan_ that’s not…”

“What about Max and Cassandra then? They were there, perhaps they should have taken better care of me?”

“No. No it’s different, I should have...I have…” Bull stopped, they were about to step into a conversation that they had never had. He wasn’t ready. He scrubbed his face with his hands the eye-patch digging harshly into his cheek. Suddenly a cool hand was on his wrist and his own hand was brought to Dorian’s lips.

The mage kissed his fingers and breathed against them, “I understand.” Then lifted his head and lay his face in Bull’s open palm.

Bull felt terrible, but at the same time relieved. Dorian was giving him an out, giving him an escape. He leaned over and kissed that bruised cheek, keeping his face there and just breathing in the man before him. Dorian turned to kiss him, it was weak and chaste but it was a sweet kiss. His hand gently rubbed the inside of Bull’s trapped arm; lovely relaxing trails of calloused palms and soft fingers. The sensation sent waves of soft pleasure up Bull’s arm straight to his brain. “It’s okay _Amatus_. You don’t have to say anything. I understand.”

And Bull knew, he couldn’t not hear the sadness in Dorian’s understanding voice, he had let the man down.

“I’m glad you’re here _Kadan_.” He meant it, he did. Dorian was his heart, he was important.

Dorian gave him a smile, “Me too.” Then his eyes closed, exhaustion taken over him.

Bull sat in the dim light of the tent, one hand captured while the other smoothed over Dorian’s covered flank back and forth. There was no room on the pallet for him and eventually he would have to go to his own tent: doctor’s orders. But for now, he could be here for the mage when before he wasn’t.

He didn’t know if that made him feel better or worse.


	12. Ask for Help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you all guess who the doctor is???  
> This chapter was almost deleted because I didn't know if it was needed, but I wanted Dorian to get his kit and to write his reaction. Necessary? Possibly not, but character building, yes.  
> Thank you for sticking with this! And if you are reading for the first time, Welcome! I'm still open to suggestions with what to call Dorian's little/massive project :)

 

The early morning light and cool desert damp now-burnt out fire smell filtered through the air and into Dorian’s tent. He opened his eyes slowly and lay there listening to the sounds of the camp coming to life. He could tell it was still early because more than half of his tent was shadowed. He would be that now would be that time when the sun hadn’t quite reached the horizon but its light was brightening the sky to a clear blue. Honestly, Dorian loved this time of day, it was clean, crisp and fresh, but he didn’t get to enjoy it often. He was a night worker; his best ideas came to him between 10 and 1 am and so that was when he was often found awake and doing things.

He lay there for a while wishing he could rub his eyes as vigorously as he wanted but was warned against it due to some injuries so he lay there with sleep-crusted eyes, slightly annoyed but enjoying the morning. He wished Bull was here. Rolling over to encounter his large warm mass would have been a delight, but alas, his bed pallet was much too small for them and Bull was told to sleep elsewhere lest he disturb the healing patient.

Keeping the blankets around him, Dorian sat up and peered around his tent. It was large, probably a converted medical tent but only he was in it. In the middle, a small portable hearth was sitting unlit but with kindling. With a wave of his hand Dorian ignited the small fire and was instantly relieved that his magic had returned to it, and at full strength, it seemed. For the fun of it he conjured a small wisp in his hand and watched the ball glow gently, changing colour with his control and though. He smiled, it felt so good to be in control again.

Renewed he wrapped himself in his blankets and inspected the rest of his tent. Across the floors were makeshift rugs that felt nice on the sand and a few places with wooden boards. It was much more than Dorian deserved. In one corner of his tent there was a little section partitioned off and on inspection, he could see two small wooden tubs and a scoop. A bathing area. Now Dorian was the happiest mage in the world.

He shed the blankets on the floor ignoring the cool air since he knew he would be warm soon. He quickly splashed his face with the water in one bucket. It was freezing from the night air but Dorian felt invigorated and carefully splashed a little more, washing his face carefully before pulling his shirt and pants off.

He glanced at the bandages keeping him from moving too much. He figured he’d get told off for removing them but really, how can a man be expected to smell for this long? He’d had a wipe down the day before, but nothing was as good as a bath. Deciding to face the wrath of way too many concerned citizens, he carefully unwound the bandages and placed them on a nearby table that also had a drying cloth.

Standing as still as possible he cast a glyph on the water and watched as steam began to rise, then he stepped into the other tub and lent down for the scoop. That was a mistake. He was amazingly flexible – he had years of dance and training to thank for that - and his muscles were freely loose so bending and stretching were natural to him. His chest punished him with pain in protest to him bending and obviously agitating one of his broken ribs. Dorian hissed and squeezed his eyes shut to stop the automatic reflex of doubling over and clutching his torso. Instead,d he stood tall, hands on hips and breathed through the pain and tears. He guessed he deserved that.

Lesson learned, when the pain subsided he bent his knees instead, careful to keep his back and neck straight. He felt stupid and a bit foolish in this posture (and though he didn’t quite admit it for not waiting for help), but he had wanted to bathe now. The mental appeal of being clean and having warm water flow over him a havinga strong psychological effect, he always felt better being clean and being in _warm_ water (not cold thank you very much). Remaining in a squatting position (that the small tub was only just allowing) he poured that first glorious scoop of hot water through his hair and down his back. If he let out a small moan of ecstasy, no one could blame him, it was that good. The water trickled down his neck, tickling him wonderfully while tipping his head back, he swore he could feel the grime sluicing off him in the little rivers the water was making. The tension in his head eased a little, and he knew having a bath was a good idea. The second pour was just as good and so was the happy groan that escaped him.

Suddenly Bull was standing there looking quite pissed off and Dorian looked up at him. _Oops, caught red handed_ the mage thought dismally. He figured he looked quite silly, a grown man, squatting in a tub with what would have to be called a glorified saucepan for a water scoop. An attractive picture he did not make he reasoned. Bull, on the other hand, looked wonderful. His superficial wounds from yesterday were all healed, and from what Dorian could see there were no new ones that Bull could boast about. He stood, looming over Dorian his hands twitching and chest heaving.

“What the hell are you doing?” Bull’s voice was loud, too loud for this beautiful morning and Dorian, tempered by the joy of bathing, wasn’t in the mood for it.

“I am bathing. What does it look like?” Then he scooped another pot of water and poured it on his head. He was glad – or so he hoped – that the water hid his wince as he lifted his other hand to gently scrub at his hair, lifting his arms was quite painful.

Dorian heard Bull let out a sigh and suddenly the scoop was taken from his hand. “You ask for help Dorian. You are injured and before you start complaining I would do this for anyone in my company. Stand up.”

Dorian stood knowing that Bull was right, but the comment stung a little, he knew that Bull had said it thinking that Dorian was going to protest about being treated like he was weak, but the effect was different. Instead Bull had accidently told Dorian that he wasn’t special, that he would do this for anyone. He knew Bull didn’t mean it like that, but the analytical brain in Dorian wasn’t kind sometimes. Instead,d Dorian ignored the little pang in his chest and convinced himself that Bull was just a naturally caring man, he should be proud of knowing such a person. He didn’t fight Bull’s directions to stand, he had known people would have wanted him to wait while he had been taking off the bandages, he had just hoped to get away with it after the fact, not during. “Why are you here so early?” Dorian made his voice unchallenging he didn’t want to worry Bull more, didn’t want to show his small pain in his voice.

“I wanted to be here when you woke up. Guess I was too slow getting ready.” As the warrior spoke he poured water down Dorian’s back.

“I haven’t been awake long. I basically woke up saw the hearth and bath and went straight for them, I’ve been dying for a hot bath, it was too tempting.” Dorian tried to get Bull to see his perspective.

“So that means you didn’t take your medicine either.” _Oops, backfired._ Dorian almost laughed at himself, at how he was managing to stuff things up this morning, he decided his brain was a little damaged.

“Ah…” Dorian trailed off sheepishly and he turned around to give Bull what he hoped was a guilty and apologetic smile. The other man sighed deeply again and shook his head. “Is there any soap?”

Bull dropped the scoop and went around the partition, he came back a few seconds later with Dorian’s travel leather grooming kit with soap, his razor, tooth brush and power and moustache wax. Dorian’s heart danced around in his chest. “Oh Bull, you brought it. Thank you!” He retrieved the black sliver of charcoal soap and began to lather it his palms.

As he ran his hands over himself he carefully explored his injuries and the tenderness of his flesh. It stung a bit, but it was worth it to be clean and free of grime, also not smelling like death. While he was quite talented as a necromancer he did not enjoy the carrying the odour of his subject. Bull watched him intently, but with none of his usual give-me-the-sign-and-I-will-fuck-you-into-the-floor look. The man seemed to be lost in thought, instinctively knowing when Dorian wanted to rinse off and poured water accordingly. Soon Dorian was as fresh as he could be.

He gingerly stepped out of the tub, mindful of bending over. Taken the arm that that stuck out, offering assistance. He wrapped himself in the available cloth and started carefully drying his injuries. He looked longingly at his grooming kit.

“Thank you for bringing my grooming kit Bull. May I borrow your mirror? I’m afraid that I rely on my cosmetics kit one which is back at the other camp.”

The other man didn’t say anything, he just went around the partition again, Dorian assumed that he went to go get his mirror and so started to dry his hair.

“Here.”

Bull’s voice startled Dorian who had the towel over his head. “Maker! I thought you left…” Dorian pulled the cloth away from his head and trailed away as he looked at Bull who was standing there with his cosmetics kit in his outstretched hands.

Dorian stared at it. Had Bull lugged the thing all the way here? Surely not, not when they had to travel light and fast since he knew now that they were always planning a rescue. Had it brought it especially for Dorian?

Dorian reached out and placed his hands on Bull’s that were on the outside of the unit. “ _Amatus_ did you bring this for me?”

“It’s nothing.” Bull replied gruffly, he was obviously still pissed at Dorian for not waiting for him to bathe and for not taking his medicine, but Dorian found he could not find it in himself to be annoyed and be terse back when The Iron Bull had obviously done something for him, had been thinking about him. _“Tiny has been in a state…You should’ve seen him Sparkler. All broody, quiet and deadly.”_ Varric’s words echoed in his mind. Did Dorian dare to think that perhaps The Iron Bull was possibly starting to love him? Dorian had no doubt that Bull cared for him as much as someone who had been brought up to believe that love would bring civilizations down could, but perhaps Bull was starting to feel more? He had brought Dorian’s grooming and cosmetic case for him, both were luxuries and not essential, and yet the man had thought to make Dorian more comfortable after his capture. Perhaps, without the man knowing, he was already falling in love with Dorian?

Dorian’s chest ached in a way that had nothing to do with injuries. He wanted that. He wanted Bull to love him, to be in love with him the same way that Dorian knew he was starting to feel. He wanted Bull to look at him and only him, for Dorian to be enough for the man, for Bull to selfishly want him physically and emotionally. But after last night, with Bull struggling into put to words what he was feeling, Dorian knew that the large man was still not ready. Oh, he had no trouble expressing himself when it was praise for Dorian, or giving orders or expressing concern, but when it came to “matters of the heart” the man simply couldn’t say anything. Credit to Bull though, their relationship had not crossed that boundary yet and talking of ‘love’ was about as realistic as Varric writing a clean children’s book.

Dorian, despite his current state of exile from Tevinter and his strained and fragile reconciliation with his father, had known love. He knew what it meant to be cherished and beloved by someone, and in spite of his rather bleak view of the world and love, he thought he knew how to make someone happy, to show them he loved them. His family for all their failings had taught him that. Felix had taught him that. But Bull? Bull was a number, a valuable commodity that when seen as no longer useful had been cast aside and purged like a virus, it didn’t matter that the man had given decades of his life in blood, pain, and sacrifice to the very thing that was supposed to care for him. He had not known love and that made Dorian miserable to his very core.

He ran his hand up Bull’s arms as far as he could manage feeling the bumps and scraps of scare new and old and tugged the man towards him. He pulled him down a little and stood on his tip toes to kiss Bulls’ still frowning lips. He kissed Bull slowly, hoping to convey the sweetness of feelings he had in Bull’s thoughtful gesture. With a press of his lips, he tried to tell Bull how much he meant to him and when his hands naturally came up to stroke along the warrior’s stubbled he held his face like it was the most important thing in the world.

When they broke apart it was slow. “Thank you for bringing this. How about to show my gratitude I’ll let you take care of me, no complaining. I promise.” That seemed to brighten Bull considerably as the man smiled and stood up straight. He turned to put the unit on the table behind him and Dorian saw him make a bee-line for the medicine bottles next to his pallet.

Looking around for a chair, Dorian saw that his tent had one, another luxury he was given as an ex-captive. Shuffling over to it he started to pick it up when Bull came over and picked it up for him, placing it at the table with his grooming kit and cosmetics. As Dorian sat down he noticed the medicine bottles lined up. One for Elfroot, Lyrium, one for pain and one to stave off infection. He took them one by one under Bull’s watchful eye.

Finally, he pulled his cosmetics kit towards him and took a moment to himself before opening the top which had his mirror. He knew that it wasn’t pretty, his head had been hit more than once, but other than that his captors had left his face mostly alone. Armed with that knowledge he opened the mirror.

It wasn’t as bad as he thought, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Yes, he looked terrible, but no injuries were really spanning his face bar one. Where the Red Templar had punched him in the head with a deep bruise that spread all the way past his eyebrow to his eye. How hard had he been hit? And Sera’s “three scratches” were angry red grooves where the monster’s gauntlet had cut into his flesh. The saving grace was that it was healing very nicely. His lips were still terrible, he had to shave and his skin looked sallow and pale for him, but he thought he didn’t look too terrible.

In the mirror two grey hands gently landed on his shoulders and squeezed slightly, “It’s not that bad.” Bull’s voice was low and reassuring.

“Yes, I think I rather agree with you. A shave and a clean-up and I think I will be looking much better. While I do this, would you mind seeing about breakfast? I think I’m keen to eat out of public eye for the moment.” Dorian tilted his head back to look at Bull upside-down.

The great man leaned down and pecked his lips while a thumb grazed his cheeks, “You know I think I like the stubble on you.”

Dorian tilted forward, “Nonsense. I shall return to my former glory, carefully groomed with a dashing mustache.” With that Dorian turned to the mirror and started to prepare himself for shaving.

“Whatever you say _Kadan_ ” Bull’s voice sounded far away and Dorian’s chest ached with how fond it sounded.

 

oOo

 

Bull stood stretching in the morning light. He had slept well, very well. The best he had since Dorian had been captured, it made sense to him that he was relieved because despite all those sinking feelings he was getting he knew he cared about the snarky mage. Having him back in the Inquisition and in his life was always a good thing, and that’s what Bull decided, Dorian was his heart, someone to be respected and like an important part of you, you looked after it.

Bull planned on being in Dorian’s tent when the mage awoke. He doubted the man would be awake at this time. He needed rest and healing before anything else. The bull wouldn’t be surprised if Dorian’s body forced him to sleep more than the man wanted to, the body knew these things, it was best to obey, though he didn’t know if the man’s driven personality would let him rest easy. With a final huge stretch, he exhaled clearly, he was pleased with how the mission had gone, they’d had limited casualties, and struck a real blow to the Venatori forces. The Charges had helped in a mission that wasn’t on the side and they were happy that their objective had been to help the mage, even if Krem grumbled about spoiled Alti.

Done with his stretching he made his way to Dorian’s tent, greeting the few early rises among them: Cassandra and the boss (did the man ever sleep?) The man was sitting on a crate with his feet extended towards the dying embers of the fire from last night, he gestured with his head and Bull wandered over.

“Sleep well?” The man’s hood was off for once and Bull could see him grin knowingly, he could always tell, the corners of his eyes crinkled a little when he genuinely smiled when he didn’t his eyes squinted into menacing slits.

“Sure boss, like a newborn babe.”

“I’ve heard they don’t actually sleep, just cry, shit, eat, vomit what they just ate and cry some more, oh and shitting, don’t forget that.” The rogue had a serious look on his face and Bull just thought that perhaps the rogue wasn’t being humorous.

“Nah I think that’s one year old, but don’t quote me on that, don’t remember that well, we were all the kids back then, the Tamassrans took care of all the little ones in Par Vollen and let me help sometimes. Doesn’t sound like you like ‘em though boss.”

The man waved his hand dismissively through the air it was lazy and floppy.  “Do you?” The rogue’s voice was filled with the disbelief that anyone could like them.

“Sure boss. They’re cute, I like ‘em a lot, always have. Used to be the biggest kid in the school I was in, I liked looking out for them.” He nodded, admiring his own thought of having a kid, “Wouldn’t mind having my own, little Bulls running around, it would be nice. I mean I think I helped make some under the Qun but that’s different.” He shrugged.

The Inquisitor glared at him like he had betrayed him with his answer, opened his mouth to say something then apparently changed his mind and dropped the topic, “Anyway, where are you off to this early?”

Bull laughed, “Early? This is normal time boss! You know that.” The man nodded in response. “I was going to Dorian’s tent. Want to be there when he woke up in-case you know…”

“He forgets where he is and burns the tent down around him because suddenly he’s got his magic back?” Max was eloquently blunt.

“Yep.” Bull popped the ‘p’ in his answer, “So someone’s gotta be there to make sure he wakes up okay.”

“And you’re the man for the job?” The Inquisitor was living up to his title now. His eyes were not quite staring at Bull in an intense manner, but he had a look that seemed like it was a practiced boredom. Bull didn’t really know where the man was going with this. The question seemed simple enough, but the rogue seemed to be asking more.

“You don’t think I should?” Keeping his voice neutral Bull challenged the Inquisitor back.

The rogue blinked, then sighed while he shook his head, finally rubbing his eyes with two fingers. “Forgive me Bull that came out wrong. I just meant that I know you aren’t the most comfortable with magic.”

“He set the curtains on fire, I was fine with that.”

Trevelyan shook his head, “That was different, you were in control and so was Dorian to an extent. I’m asking you; If he woke up from a night terror with fire and lighting on his fingertips, could you handle it and not be pulled back to a darker time and hurt him?”

Bull thought about it, he knew what the boss was saying. He had, through indirect and sexy means, caused Dorian to set the curtains alight from pleasure, but if the man woke from fear with his magic wild there was no cause except for his wish to survive, he might not know where he was and strike out. Would Bull be able to handle the situation properly was what the man was asking.

“Could you?” Bull asked back.

“Yes.” He answered immediately and confidently, but not in an arrogant manner.

“I can too boss. I’ve seen night terrors on Seheron especially with the Viddathari, I can handle it.” He wasn’t just saying it. He knew he wouldn’t hurt Dorian if he came to lashing out with his magic. He always had a plan and this one made sure that Dorian didn’t get hurt.

Max had stood and was patting Bull on the shoulder, “You’re a good man Bull. Take care of Dorian this morning. I have shit to clean up and to organise debrief.” The man gave a long-suffering sigh before meandering away like a lost child who had also dropped their ice-treat. Poor guy didn’t get a break, Bull shook his head in sympathy before heading to Dorian’s tent.

He had only lifted the flap when he saw that Dorian’s sleeping pallet was empty and panic overwhelmed him. Had the remaining Venatori snuck in during the night and recaptured the mage? Where were the guards that were supposed to be watching him? Were they dead? Bull was about to go charging from the tent when he heard a moan. No! Dorian was hurt! He had left the man to fend for himself again! He should have dragged his own pallet in here to sleep dammit! He ran towards the section of the tent the moan had come for, mentally preparing himself for seeing the man injured again. He would never forgive himself if Dorian was hurt again.

When he came around the partition he was greeted with the sight of a naked Dorian squatting in a tub trying to bathe. His worry instantly changed to relief then spiked into anger, “What the hell are you doing?!” He tried not to yell, it was still early, but Bull couldn’t help it, he was angry. He had been so worried and the man was bathing. He had taken his bandages off that were supposed to help with his healing ribs and was squatting in a tub! Why couldn’t he have waited or called for help? Was he trying to aggravate his injuries? Was he being purposefully obtuse?

“I am bathing. What does it look like?” Bull watched as Dorian pointedly scooped another pot of water and poured it over his head, it did not escape Bull’s notice that when the man lifted his other arm to wash his hair his face pinched into a quickly concealed grimace. The damned man was still in pain and being stubborn! Bull sighed in frustration and grabbed the scoop from the mage’s hands.

Silver-green eyes framed with wet lashes blinked at him and Bull’s anger fell, but only slightly. “You ask for help Dorian. You are injured and before you start complaining I would do this for anyone in my company. Stand up.” He didn’t want a repeat of last night’s conversation of Dorian accusing him of thinking him weak, and besides he would do this for anyone he cared about, but that list was very, very small.

“Why are you here so early?” Dorian had tipped his head back for Bull to pour water on it

“I wanted to be here when you woke up. Guess I was too slow getting ready.” He regretted stopping talking to the Inquisitor now. It looked like the tub with water was still full so Dorian hadn’t been trying to bathe for long, if only he had come here sooner. Once again Bull’s timing had been off. Why couldn’t he just take care of the man properly?

“I haven’t been awake long. I basically woke up saw the hearth and bath and went straight for them, I’ve been dying for a hot bath, it was too tempting.” Dorian was facing him now and looking up at him with lifted brows. So he had woken up, seen the bath and went straight to it. Bull sighed. The man was insufferable.

Bull stopped pouring, “So that means you didn’t take your medicine either.”

Dorian’s reaction was to startle a little, then offer the tiniest sheepish smile while looking up through his lashes. Bull just stared at him waiting for his answer, which he already knew the answer to; no he did not take the medicine.

“Ah, is there any soap?” Dorian avoided admitting stupidity and changed the topic instead. Bull’s anger was still simmering in his gut, it wasn’t explosive like before now that he knew everything was okay, but Dorian not taking care of himself was frustrating him. The man did take very good care of himself. He sometimes got carried away with research and developing his weird magic linked books, but he always ate well and ate when someone realised he had missed dinner and sent him food. Bull wanted that reliable man back, not this one who forgot to take medicine and did not ask for help.

Perhaps getting Dorian back to feeling like the man he was before would help with that? Bull dropped the scoop back into the water tub with a satisfying ‘plop’ and went around the partition to where Dorian’s travel gear was. Everything he had brought for Dorian on the wagon had made it to the tent, and Ma’am had dropped off the cosmetic unit when Dorian had been asleep. The grooming kit – a simple black leather affair with bands to hold all his grooming instruments – had already been in the man’s pack and was easy to take without thinking. He pulled it out and rubbed his thumb over the soft leather with simple patterns stamped into it, it was so classy, so very Dorian.

He brought the kit to the mage, wordlessly he held it out.

“Oh Bull, you brought it. Thank you!” Dorian all but snatched the kit away and hugged it to his chest a little before efficiently unwrapping the kit and cutting a sliver of soap off the bar. Bull took the kit back and lay it on the table that was close by. He watched as Dorian carefully but happily started to wash. Bull noted every wince and twitch the man made when he ran his hands over certain parts of his body, he categorised those areas as the ones that brought him the most pain. Of course, his chest would hurt, he shouldn’t have even been washing it and Bull wearily eyed the discarded bandages on the table. He wanted to sigh again but instead, he picked up the scoop and poured water when he thought Dorian wanted it.

Bull helped Dorian in silence, it was quite meditative, bending and scooping water repetitively. Soon almost all of the water from the tub was gone and Dorian looked fresher, cleaner and Bull admitted, much more like himself. When he started to get out of the tub Bull stuck his arm out for the mage and was relieved when the man wrapped his hand around his forearm with no argument. It made Bull feel a little better.

As he reached out for his towel he was staring at his grooming kit, “Thank you for bringing my grooming kit Bull. May I borrow your mirror? I’m afraid that I rely on the one in my cosmetics kit, which, funnily enough, is back at the other camp.” Of course, the man was not finished without complete grooming. Bull left again but this time when to fetch the intriguing little unit with all its pots and bottles.

When Bull came around the partition this time, Dorian had the towel draped over his head and was pathetically rubbing his hair. He was also slightly bent over. Bull wanted to growl again, why couldn’t the man just wait and ask for help?

“Here.” He stuck out the box.

“Maker!” Dorian jolted and Bull felt a little guilty for scaring the man, “I thought you left…”  Ah, that’s right, Dorian didn’t know that Bull had arranged for his cosmetics box to be brought, he had assumed that Bull had left for his own tent that was alright then, the man hadn’t purposely not asked for help, but probably just thought he had any help.

“ _Amatus_ did you bring this for me?” Brought out of his thoughts Bull noticed Dorian staring at him with a strange surprised look on his face.

“It’s nothing.” He grumbled, still annoyed that the man wasn’t taking care of himself, but more so the fact that he wasn’t on time to meet his needs to help, Bull was getting more frustrated with himself. Warm hands covered his on the box and Bull looked up to see Dorian looking, not at him, but at the wooden chest. His thumbs were rubbing up and down on the backs of his hands in absent gestures. The tickle against his skin was soothing and careful then all at once those hands moved sensuously up his arms and he was tugged down a little and from the tilt of Dorian’s head he wanted a kiss. Well, if the man wanted to give him a thank you kiss he certainly wasn’t going to deny him, but as their lips pressed together Bull realized this wasn’t a thank you kiss. His open eye saw the tiniest bit of wetness gathering at the corner of dark lashes. Dorian’s kiss felt tense but open, it was a constant moving of his lips on Bull’s, pulling at his bottom lip, kissing his top, his tongue gently pressing against his inner lip but never seeking entrance. Bull’s chest tightened. What _was_ this kiss?

Then his hands came up and against Bull’s stubbled face, stronger fingers traced patterns on his skin and then he was held. Dorian was cradling his face and Bull felt…safe. He always felt safe because of his own abilities but he had never felt safe because of another person, even when he was imekari. And yet here was Dorian, a flashy mage from Tevinter, holding his head and making him feel like he could let go. All at once it disappeared when Dorian broke the kiss and Bull almost begged for him to not stop, but the man smiled up at him and he greedily drank in the sight.

“Thank you for bringing this. How about to show my gratitude I’ll let you take care of me, no complaining. I promise.” Bull straightened. He could o this deal, if it was going to get Dorian back to how he should be and heal faster, Bull would be all over it. He started by offering his arm as Dorian gingerly stepped out of the tub, and he was a little amazed when Dorian took it. Honestly, he thought the man was still a little proud and asking for help would be hard, but perhaps taking offered help was easier

Bull put the unit on the table in the bathing area, then turned to get the man’s various medicines. When he came back, he turned and saw Dorian picking up a chair, luckily it was only a grass chair of some sort, very light or Bull would have been fuming again, as it was he stillwent over and took the chair from the mage then arranged it at the table, before draping a towel over it. Dorian probably wouldn't appreciate the pointy bits against his butt. Th mage sat down and eyed the bottles containing his healing potions. With little hesitation he quickly went about downing all of them before reaching out to open his vanity mirror. Bull watched carefully as Dorian took in his face or the first time since his capture.

He saw dark eyebrows go down and green-silver eyes were attracted to the nasty bruise that spread over his temple to his eye, a hand came up to gingerly press the bruised area, but overall there was very little reaction. Bull didn’t want Dorian worrying, so he cupped the mage’s smooth shoulders squeezing the pleasantly rounded joints before the mage tipped his head back comically, “It’s not that bad.” Bull meant it, if anything some time with real resting and getting back to normal would do wonders for the mage, here were no real face-altering injuries, the man was still gorgeous and attractive, he meant it.

“Yes, I think I rather agree with you. A shave and a clean-up and I think I will be looking much better. While I do this, would you mind seeing about breakfast? I think I’m keen to eat out of public eye for the moment.” Bull was pleased that Dorian spoke so positively and had asked for help.

Wanting to convey that even if there was a slight change, Bull still desired him he softly said, “You know I think I like the stubble on you.”

Of course Dorian disagreed and vowed to return to his former glory, which Bull was fine with, small goals made things easier. He left a lingering kiss on the man’s lips before leaving the tent to go find breakfast, when he got back with mushy oats drenched in honey in hand, Dorian had already shaved and was in the process of styling his mustache and hair carefully arranging the strands just how wanted them.

“I’m going to light the hearth Bull.” Bull nodded and put the bowl in the sandpit of the hearth, it was a safe and good distance away but the oats would keep some warmth. Then he set about getting some pillows for Dorian to sit on near the hearth while he ate. Dorian wandered over after a time and then attempted to sit on the floor, which, due to his injuries was apparently quite painful. Bull immediately got up to help the mage lower himself to the pillows and instead of a snarky attitude. He got a firm squeeze on his forearm then scratchies as the mage ran his fingers up and down his forearm, Bull actually liked it

“Is this enough Big Guy?” Bull got the bowl so Dorian didn’t have to bend and brought it to the prone mage. The man took the bowl and carefully inspected it.

“I think I can manage this much, yes. I did eat quite a bit last night. It was very good. I think I can handle this, this morning.” At that, he started stirring the oats around making sure the honey was mixed throughout the whole bland affair. Bull enjoyed how Dorian seemed to use him as a backrest to ensure he wasn’t putting undue stress on his injured torso. He just sat there; Dorian leaning on him, as he heard he rest of the camp starting to wake up. Life was good.

It made Bull feel useful like he was finally properly taking care of the mage, imekari-Bull would have been pleased, he didn’t even consider what Hissrad would have thought, that man was dead, but Ashkaari had never really disappeared and right now, all his carer instincts were being fired off and satisfied. Bull gently ran his hands through Dorian’s now clean, but still wet hair and the man purred leaning back into the caress while spooning more food into his mouth. Bull did what he had wanted to do last night and carefully placed his hand over Dorian’s throat. He felt the man swallow and he used his thumb to encourage it more, Dorian just whimpered a happy little noise and seemed to get even more comfortable. Eventually Bull would have to move, they were going to start packing up today to start heading back to Skyhold, and then Bull would have things to do, but for now, the most important thing was staying with the mage that was currently purring in his arms.


	13. Coming Clean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian must tell the inquisitor what happened. What is the man going to do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! I updated.  
> Apologies for the slowness of updates, I'm getting there slowly! <3\. I do know the ending to this and it is in sight - in my addled brain.  
> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it so far.

The wagon rocked from side to side and the harsh sun was nicely blocked out by medium weave canvas. Dorian dozed a lot on the trip, had daily checkups with the healer and was graced with guardians in the form of the inner circle and the Commander occasionally. No one complained that Dorian got to ride in the wagon and not on horseback like the rest, it was a nice change to not hear anything about "spoiled 'Vints." Seemed everyone had heard of his injuries at least.

The worst people to sit with him were Cassandra and Sera. Cassandra, because she was essentially another mother hen and a worry-wart who insisted in checking his injuries and bandages, and Sera because she chatted inanely even when Dorian fell asleep, Bull doted and wanted to do a lot fo him, perhaps still clinging on to the promise Dorian had made in the tent, the man's eye was positively shining when Dorian requested some water with elfroot in it. Dorin had discovered that Blackwall was quite good at singing, he had been humming gently and whittling something when Dorian was asleep and the mage had woken to a soothing deep baritone. He hadn’t interrupted, but Blackwall had seen him, abruptly stopped singing and blushed.

Dorian had already been drifting back to sleep on those sonorous notes, so he asked, “Don’t stop, it’s quite soothing.”

The bearded man had raised an eyebrow, then nodded and continued both shaping the wood in his hands and humming. Dorian had sighed in happiness and continued to drift off to sleep again.

Now was the fourth day of travel and Dorian found he could stay awake for a significantly longer stretch of time. It was time. He wasn’t looking forward to this conversation, but he knew he had to get it out of the way before any more time passed. He had to tell the Inquisitor that the ritual had been carried out, and for all he knew, successful. He didn’t know what it meant, nor what would happen to him, but he planned to search through the recovered Venatori papers to find out what happened to him (as well as search for Corypheus’ real name, and his side project of creating magically linked books). He just knew that he would agree with everything that Max wanted to do. He could not become a liability when so much was at stake. He sighed.

“Something the matter?” Cullen was watching him this time, they had picked the man up from another camp once a larger troupe of soldiers had been established and the blonde man was now heading back with them to resume his duties as Commander in Skyhold. He had been a surprising comfort to Dorian who, not knowing what the ritual had done, have found the presence of the ex-Templar (one that could actually stop his magic) a comforting if not necessary safeguard if he did anything. The last thing Dorian wanted was to hurt his companions.

“I was wondering if you, after your rest, might persuade our dear Inquisitor to sit with me next. I must speak with him.”

“Is anything the matter Dorian?” Cullen was looking at him intently, his brows creased.

“Perhaps, I wish to tell the inquisitor directly.”

“I’ll go get him now.” Cullen stood, barely swaying in the wagon as it traveled on. The man had been told everything and now he looked back from the entrance of the wagon with sympathy. “If there is anything we can do Dorian, you’ve more than proven yourself a friend and stalwart comrade.”

“My, Commander. I didn’t think you cared.” Dorian teased.

“Yes, I do. We do.” The man’s answer shocked Dorian into silence, he wasn’t used to all this Fereldan bluntness, honestly, who just said what they thought? Cullen disappeared from the flaps and Dorian waited. It wasn’t long before the cloth folded open to reveal the Inquisitor who unassamedly plopped himself on the floor and scooted closer to Dorian while cross-legged, Dorian thought it looked like more effort than necessary and was about to comment when the Inquisitor got “that look” on his face, the one that was all searching and his brows furrowed a little, he even topped the look off by placing a fist under his chin and leaning towards the prone mage, now all he needed was his pipe and he would start poking him.

“Yes, yes I wanted to speak to you.” Dorian relented reaching out and taking the other man’s free hand. The  Inquisitor immediately turned his over to hold Dorian’s.

“Is everything okay? Are you ill? Motion sickness? Something else?”

“Do not fret, but I warn you, please listen o the end before doing or saying anything, while what I need to tell you is very serious, I need time to tell you.” Dorian lowered his voice carefully in case anyone outside the wagon could hear. He was fairly confident that the sound of all the horses and the wagon jumbling around would stop any eavesdroppers, but he couldn’t be too safe.

“Okay. Just tell me, Dorian.” Max patted Dorian's hand and squeezed it bringing I to his chest.

Dorian took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly through his mouth, decided to squeeze the inquisitor’s hand back and just tell him, “Max, Inquisitor. I’m afraid that the Venatori were successful with one part of their plan. I believe the ritual that I interrupted the first time was performed a second time and was successful.” Dorian’s voice quavered just a little on the last word and he despised himself for it.

Max didn’t blink and he was still patting Dorian’s hand, “Are you sure? Could you be wrong? We did find you in quite a state, perhaps you passed out and don’t remember?”

“Maker bless you.” Dorian freed his hand to wrap it around the Inquisitor’s hooded head to rub at it gentle, “Always so positive our Inquisitor. No, I’m afraid, as much as I wish it wasn’t true, I am quite certain they managed to do it.”

Max started nodding, “Do it, yes, but you have no idea about success or not.”

Dorian shook his head, “Logic, unfortunately. If it wasn’t successful, why would they try to  get me back desperately?”

“Damn, you’re too analytical.” The man gently tapped Dorian’s forehead with his finger.

“I’m right. And you know it.”

The rogue finally sat back and slumped a little, “Yes, I admit, what you say sounds the most logical, as much as I don’t want it to be true.”

“The bad thing is Inquisitor”

“There’s something worse than my friend being forced into a blood ritual?” The man moaned and rubbed his chin with his knuckled.

“I was saying,” Dorian continued, “that the bad thing is that I don’t know what the ritual _did_.”

“Hmm, and you won't know until you get a chance to look through all that paper we found, there is _a lot.”_ This time the man decided to scrub both his hands down his face, pulling his cheeks down much farther than they should have allowed.

“Yes, exactly. But Max, we must think of you, your safety. What if they did something nefarious to me?”

“Only you would use the word ‘nefarious’ in this situation. I understand what you are saying, but I worry about you too.”

“Very kind, but possibly stupid, we need to think of protecting _you_ , I am not the one with the magical rift-closing-hand. Now before you say anything. Just know that I’m not going to disagree with anything _you_ want to put in place. Someone else's suggestions I might find issue with, but from you, I will not. You are my trusted friend and hold me no grudges. I trust you.”

“Careful Dorian, you might not like what I say.” The man had taken to playing with a bit of Dorian’s robe, flicking it to and fro absently.

“Just give some suggestions please, that will ensure your safety and the Inquisitions.”

The man sat up straight and steepled his fingers together, pointing at Dorian. He was quiet and his eyes were roaming around carefully, “You need to be monitored, at all times, by Liliana’s people so that no one knows you’re being watched and can spread gossip. It should also be unintrusive. You will need to go get checked by the doc every so often and report any abnormalities in your health to her. That’s what I want. So there. Still agree?”

“That sound a little too reasonable.”

“I meant it when I said monitored at _all times_ ” Max’s eyes bore into Dorian’s.

“Oh. That’s what you’re worried about.” Dorian’s voice was light, “Well perhaps the little spy will learn something for their repertoire. Bull and I have nothing to hide. Are they to learn the truth?” This was something Dorian was worried about, he trusted the inquisitor, but others had yet to earn his confidence. All one had to do was become a little too paranoid and silently kill him and no one would probably know.

“Liliana will, but she will decide who needs to know, and the people for the job. I know you don’t trust her, but I do, can you leave this with me? What about getting checked are you okay with that?”

Dorian waved the question away with his hand, “I was going to do that anyway. The Doctor is very protective of her patients, so I had no concerns about her. If anything is amiss, I will come to you immediately.”

“You’re being very calm Dorian. Are you alright?” Max’s gloved hand landed on Dorian’s shoulder.

“Ah, I fear if I let myself be consumed by what has happened I might never operate again. I have had some time to process things and have decided to place my trust in you, the doctor and myself. If I can find out what they did, perhaps I could reverse it without blood magic.”

“You’re a good man Dorian. Tell me if you need anything. A good bottle of wine?”

“THAT would be a miracle in Skyhold dear Inquisitor.” The man laughed and gently shoved Dorian’s shoulder back and forth in response.

“You know you have to tell Bull.”

Dorian groaned, “Yes, yes I know.”

“Tell him soon. He was very worried about you.” The Inqusitor was frowning a him.

“Alright! I will. I know. I’ll tell him soon.” Dorian had closed his eyes and flung his arm over them hoping to block out Max’s frown. It didn’t work, the man’s worried voice pierced the darkness instead.

“Dorian…”

“Tsk. I will! Just soon, in my own time.” Dorian insisted to himself that he was not pouting. He felt a very gentle pat on his chest and then a painfully sympathetic voice.

“It will be okay Dorian.” And then Max was gone but his message remained.

_‘Soon, I will tell Bull once things have settled. I will.’_ Dorian chanted to himself long into and after the time Cullen returned to his vigil over him and The Iron Bull replaced him.


	14. Happily Stuffed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian wants to flirt openly, and he will damnit!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has some sexy scenes in it, it's not graphic, that's for the next chapters.  
> Enjoy!  
> A short chapter to set the scene.

Dorian of House Pavus formally of Minrathos was excited. It had been three months since his rescue and he was doing very well. The results of the enema samples had come back consistently with no sign of Red Lyrium (which was a great relief to all), the doctor had also taken blood and reported that nothing had changed except for a slight anomaly which could be put down to trauma and stress, but all Dorian heard was “no traces of Red Lyrium.” Him being watched was so completely unnoticeable, even Bull didn’t pick it up, perhaps he was slipping with his Ben-hassrath training. So, he and Bull had fallen back into blessed gentle then frantic fucking once Dorian was sure that nothing bad would happen to Bull.

Of course, Bull was immediately after ever the annoying gentleman not wanting to aggravate Dorian’s injuries, even though he himself regularly ignored all medical advice and went charging into battle like the half blind idiot he was. “No _Kadan_ not until every bruise is gone and you aren’t walking without flinching. Not until you can fill your lungs with air and hold your breath. Not until you can sit down without lowering yourself like an old maid with your arms first.” Bull had taken that tone with him, the one that said he wasn’t moving in his opinion, his ‘mother hen’ voice as Krem so helpfully supplied.

 Dorian had sulked (partly from being rebuffed from even a handjob but mostly from being referred to as an ‘old maid’) and gone to lock himself in his room where he spent several hours trying to see Bull’s point of view, which he did. Frustratingly so, but he got over it and soon after he had proven to Bull that he was once again in peak physical health. Of course, Bull had needed to know about Dorian’s mental health and the mage had managed to explain that unfortunately this was not the first time someone had forced themselves on him (talking Bull down from what had been an exercise in soothing and reassurance) but this was the first time that he did not feel like it was his fault. He knew it wasn’t healthy blaming himself for what happened in the past, but it was hard to get rid of those voices in his head that told him otherwise and one voice (that that sounded like his father) that said, “you reap what you sow.”

Bull was helping him with that too, explaining over and over, gently but firmly that no matter what situation he had put himself in his reckless youth no one had the right to do that to him. It was them that were the scum, not Dorian. He had sat with Dorian over bad cocoa without spices and that was made much too sweet with patience and sweet listening. He never judged Dorian, he made Dorian feel safe. Soon after the clean bill of health as directed by numerous healers, Dorian’s insistence and Bull’s own Ben-Hassrath style mental assessment of him they had tumbled back into bed with sweet familiarity.

So, Dorian wanted to do something special for Bull and himself. Something that he had not indulged in ever. Open flirting as he had always wished in Tevinter. He wanted to do something he had always wanted to: seduce a man openly. To make anticipation sweet, to hint at what Bull could have, to be coy and excite Bull so much that Dorian was all he could think about.

As Dorian thought about it he became excited by the notion. In their relationship, it could be said that Bull did all the pursuing, that Dorian basically just stumbled into his room drunk and their frenzied, passionate fuck was anything but romantic. Dorian had missed out of doing some seduction, he felt he was quite good at it, after all, he had managed to bed many men in Tevinter where such affairs were sneered at, plus he knew just what to do to get Bull to crack. He was looking forward to it.

He had opted to sleep in his room last night, claiming late research and not wanting to disturb the man with his moving around just so that he could prepare. It was early, far earlier than anyone expected Dorian to be up and he was washed and freshly shaved, his mustache trimmed and styled to perfection. It was a usual routine but Dorian took extra steps. He rubbed oil scented with almonds and honeyed spices into his skin only enough for it is shine and pleasingly and show off his muscles. Then a change in the routine. Naked, Dorian reached under his bed and pulled out his own box of toys. No one, not even Bull knew he had these, but one must remember that he had spent the better half of a year traveling alone from Tevinter to Ferelden, it would be silly to assume that man as sexually charged as Dorian would not indulge when he finally had finances and security. He hadn’t used them since Bull, since the man had his own and the topic had never come up.

He pulled out a plug, a beautifully crafted Everite affair that was polished to a mirror shine and shifted from the deepest black to hues of blue and purple. It was smooth and delightful with good weight, large enough for it to challenge Dorian but not enough for him to feel discomfort for what he was going to do. The plug itself was normal, a large base that flared out before shrinking again, but this plug also extended in length and a piece of it ran the length between Dorian’s thighs to a bulb that constantly rubbed a delicious torture against his perineum.

Dorian bit his lip remembering the pleasure he knew his toy could bring, was even tempted to ditch Bull and have a little party on his own until he was boneless and unable to walk. But the thought quickly vanished, toys didn’t have arms that held you and rocked you, toys didn’t have hands that expertly pulled your hair back or explored and caressed every inch of you. Toys didn’t have mouths that whispered dirty and sweet things at you while you were in the heights of ecstasy. Toys didn’t respond to hooded looks from across the room and didn’t add unpredictability and companionship to sex.

Dorian climbed back onto his cold bed, lay back and relaxed. He warmed the plug with his hands and oil before reaching down to grasp his cock. He stroked himself languidly, enough to arouse and relax but not so much that he because lost in pleasure. He reached down and guided the tip of the plug to his entrance, the metal pleasantly warm while his other hand went to his balls rubbing and tugging a little as he stroked more oil onto himself.

He inhaled, testing his lungs. There was a slight tightness, but no pain that was a good sign. He pumped himself harder running his index finger over the tip of his cock gently before pulling at himself again. On the next inhale he pushed the plug and bore down on it slowly thrusting it in and out where the sweet burn was welcoming. Dorian smiled at the thought of Bull finding his surprise and inexorably pushed the plug all the way in. It slid into place with snug satisfaction and Dorian could feel it pressing against his prostate with a gentle insistent pressure. Pleasurable warmth spread up his spine and settled at the base of his brain and Dorian groaned as his wiggled his hips, testing the plug. It massaged the flesh behind his balls and his insides with such wonderful accuracy that Dorian wondered if he would be able to last for what he wanted to do.

Gathering his discipline, he slowly sat up to finish the rest of morning routine. He smudged his kohl more to soften the line and draw attention to his eyes. Then fixed his hair, but not in his usual style, he made it a bit messier, so it looked how it did after Bull grasped it in his massive fingers.

Then he chose his robe, a flattering green one that strapped his body tight and showed off both his arms to the shoulder. Some boots and a bit more oil and he was done. And all through this the sharp lull of arousal coursed through Dorian’s blood and made his eyes flutter.

oOo

The bull was always an early riser, a military habit. Get up with the sun, eat a small meal, train with the troops, then eat proper breakfast do more training and so on until you are a honed weapon. He, Cullen and Cassandra were the most consistent and their morning schedules often coincided. The other’s in the team were less so. Sometimes the Boss would be at breakfast but sometimes he wouldn’t be especially after a night of pouring over boring diplomatic papers, but after the three most military minded he was the most sighted at the large table in the Inquisition hall. Which was why it was a surprise when Bull walked in after training to see Varric, Cole (who wasn’t eating but talking to his porridge), Josephine, Blackwall and finally Dorian.

The mage looked edible. His eyes smoky but crinkled as he whispered lowly to Max while his skin shone golden brown. Bull swore his mouth started to water. Dorian looked so fuckable this morning. The man was every bit the Tevinter Princeling he wanted to portray. Bull grinned. The mage’s recovery had been slow but sure, he was proud of his Kadan.

This morning he was wearing green silk over his tan leathers, his hair was done differently and as Bull squinted it looked like Dorian had smudged his kohl a little. He looked edible and Bull felt his dick pulse with interest.   

As the party moved towards the table Bull was even more surprised when Dorian simply flicked his eyes towards him then a grin spread slowly across his face. The hand that was previously on his cheek dragged down his neck as the mage turned and Bull followed their path across his chin to rest on his neck just below that shapely jaw.  

“Here Tiny lemme move for you.” Varric moved to get up but Bull stopped him.

“Nah you’ve already got everything in front of you. I’ll just sit here.” He sat next to Blackwall opposite Dorian while Cassandra and Cullen found seats around the table.

Dorian stood up slowly and reached across the table as Bull pulled the chair out, his ringed fingers curling in invitation towards Bull. That smile never left his handsome face. Entranced Bull put his hand out and laid it in the open palm. “ _Amatus._ ” Dorian turned Bull’s hand and gently planted a kiss on the inside of the warrior’s wrist before smiling and releasing the shocked but very pleased man. No one had ever seen Dorian initiate affection, it was always Bull.

The whole table was quiet and watching the exchange and Bull was worried that Dorian was going to bolt but it seemed the ‘Vint only had eyes for Bull, he stood straight and tall smiling at Bull.

“Uh. Good morning _Kadan._ ” Bull wanted to do something, anything to return the lovely open affection Dorian had shown him but had no idea what to do without it seeming forced. Luckily it seemed that his lover didn’t want that.

“Sit down, I’m sure you Cassandra and Cullen must be hungry from your training this morning.” Dorian sat slowly which Bull noticed was unusual, but he followed the man’s orders as did Cassandra and Cullen, both of who were watching the exchange intently, Cassandra with what appeared to be hearts in her eyes. “I took the liberty of asking the cooks to bring you all something warm and hearty after your training.”

As if on cue three large plates were placed in front of the warriors. Bull looked down to see a generous helping of bacon, eggs with greens, a small hot steaming roll that was slathered with butter and a small pot of porridge which seemed to be made with berries from the gardens. All of it piping hot and freshly made.

“You…you did this for us?” Cassandra looked like she wanted to cry.

Dorian sat back and waved his hand dismissively. “I just requested it so that you didn’t have to wait for it or choose the pre-made food, the cooks are obviously the ones to do all the work. I’m just lucky you army types are so punctual and predictable with your regular routines.” Dorian glanced at Bull and he looked like he was a little shy.

“Thank you, Dorian.” Cullen definitely had little hearts in his eyes as he started wolfing down his meal.

“Thank you, Dorian.” Cassandra smiled as she too started eating.

Bull stood up. If Dorian was going to be this affectionate this morning and get his breakfast ready he was going to show his appreciation. He quickly walked around the table to Dorian’s side, he reached out to cup his chin and gently tilt his head up, then planted a slow but chaste kiss on the mages soft lips. When the broke apart Dorian’s smile was sweet and his eyes glittered.

“Thank you _Kadan._ This was very sweet.” Dorian smelled amazing. Like honey and spices, Bull wanted to rub his nose all over the man and almost growled.

Quickly Dorian righted himself, “Yes, well,” he glanced around at the staring faces, “it was nothing. Quickly go back to your seat or your food will get cold, also you are all sweaty and I am freshly bathed.”

Bull laughed as he made his way back to his chair, “You like it.”

“Yes, but only when I’m the one who caused it.” That stopped Bull and he looked at Dorian, the mage was inspecting his nails like he hadn’t just said something so blatantly open and sexual in front of everyone. “Do sit down Bull, your meal.”

“Uh…right.” Bull sat quickly and grinned like an idiot at Dorian who nodded in satisfaction. Everyone started eating and a companionable conversation started. Cole only quipped up to ask questions, no delving into hurt which was saying something about the mood of the table. It seemed the playfulness and thoughtfulness of Dorian towards Bull had an effect of the group as they laughed and chatted while planning the rest of the day; such was the charisma of Dorian Pavus and The Iron Bull was in awe.

Bull had mostly finished his bacon and eggs, dipping the warm crusty bread into the perfect orange runny yolk when he felt a foot gently nudge his. They were at the rectangular table and the space between him and Dorian wasn’t that far. He looked at Dorian who was smiling behind his teacup as the foot ran all the way up and down Bull’s leg without anyone noticing. When the booted foot made it all the way up to Bull’s groin to press sneakily against his prick he grinned into his food.

“Something the matter Bull?” Dorian asked innocently while the wonderful bastard’s foot was still pressing and rubbing.

Bull smirked, “Just appreciating the meal you got ready for us Big Guy. I feel really special.” Two could play this game. While Dorian was trying to embarrass Bull sexually, Bull always knew that real compliments and appreciation got Dorian all flustered.

Predictably Dorian pinked a little and that foot retreated slightly but Bull clamped his thighs together and trapped the retreating limb in a powerful vice.

Dorian laughed and tried to pull his foot away but Bull wouldn’t let go and just smiled even more.

“What is going on with you two?” Blackwall looked confused, “Besides the usual.” He amended.

“Ah, dear me. Footsies gone wrong I’m afraid.” Dorian apologised insincerely to the bearded man. Bull leaned back from the table a little to show the warriors either side of him the said trapped footsie.

“Maker preserve us. So, it’s the usual.” Blackwall rolled his eyes and resumed eating and conversing with Josie who looked positively delighted at Dorian’s behaviour.

Dorian chuckled again then looked at Bull, “Bull can I have my foot back please? I promise to behave.”

Bull crunched a piece of bacon and patted the booted foot, “Nope. Mine now.” And he resumed eating. Dorian ‘humphed’ but left his captive foot, turning to talk to the Herald while Bull listened to Cullen about troop movement and his general complaints.

Everyone but the Inquisitor was finished eating (he’d brought reading material to the table, poor guy never got a break) when Dorian, now with both feet in Bull’s lap addressed him again, a little shyly if Bull wasn’t mistaken.

“Bull, perhaps you would like to take a stroll around the barracks with me this morning? I hear most of the renovations are done and we are no longer in danger of breaking our necks from a little exploration. After all, we aren’t all like our dear Inquisitor here who can jump from anything or any height and apparently not die.” Everyone looked at Trevelyan who currently had his cheeks full like a chipmunk. He looked at everyone at the table, shrugged, and continued stuffing as much food into his mouth as possible. Bull shook his head. He had no idea how the human could eat so much and not be the size of a house. Perhaps the mark was doing something to him? He’d talk to Dorian about it later.

“Slow down! Are you stupid!” Dorian chastised his friend and reached over the pull the papers from Max’s hands, there was a feeble, food-filled protest as Max tried, in vain, to hold onto the documents. “Eat first, THEN read. Honestly.”

The Inquisitor frowned, pouting around his food before giving up and eating properly.

“There now.” Dorian turned back to Bull, “What do you say Bull? Care to take a turn around the old fort with me?” The mage looked so hopeful, so vulnerable, and the Qunari knew that asking him to stroll with him in front of all their companions had been hard for the man. He had no idea why the mage was being so open today, but Bull was enjoying it, he enjoyed cagey Dorian too, but finding a new aspect to his lover was exciting and cute.

But Bull felt bad, he’d already promised Cullen that he would help with troop training today. They were going to be focusing on unconventional battles, which the Charges were certainly the most proficient at. Bull swallowed, already regretting having to disappoint Dorian.

“I’m sorry Dorian, I asked Bull and the Charges to help with troop training today. We need them to stop thinking that people will fight fairly and predictably. The Charges and Bull are the best company we have for that.” Cullen sounded apologetic and was leaning towards the mage hoping to soften the news.

“Oh.” Dorian stated and Bull could see that he slumped a little, not much. He looked down at his food and Bull felt bad, he squeezed one of the feet in his lap.

“Perhaps we don’t need Bull for the whole day?” Cassandra – the closet romantic – offered her opinion and Bull knew that Dorian would never hear of it.

“Nonsense!” Dorian was sitting up again, one thing Bull had learned about Dorian was that he never wanted to inconvenience anyone down here. He had said that he revelled in it back in Tevinter, but down here, where people were “trying to save the world” as he put it, he never wanted to be in the way. “Training those new troops is much more important.”

He was insistent, and Cassandra didn’t reply, Cullen still looked guilty, but Bull could see Dorian’s brain working. “What is your schedule? When will you all have a break for lunch?”

“Noon hopefully. Or there about.” Cullen answered.

“Excellent.” Dorian clapped his hands together satisfied, “Perhaps I shall come to watch some training before then.”

“You could help with the training Big Guy.” Bull offered hopefully, it would be nice to have two mages in the Charges group who knew what they were doing, especially one who didn’t insist that their staff was a bow all the time.

“Not today Bull, I have things to do, and Max is going to help me.”

“Mmaaamm?” The Herald asked around the food in his mouth.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full Inquisitor, and yes you are.” Dorian was beaming again. “Noon then. We shall come to inspect you then!” With that Dorian pulled his feet out of Bull’s lap and stood slowly, Bull didn’t miss a slight fluttering of eyelids when the mage bent at the waist to straighten. But the moment was gone and Dorian breezed out of the hall.

“Well, what was up with him?” Blackwall asked the whole table.

“Freeing and grateful. A sharp star blazing from the base of his spine, all for Bull all for _Amatus_. Eye on me, treat him to me, make him happy like I am.” Cole’s voice was musical for once, a wistful melody giving words to Dorian’s emotions.

“ _That_ was Sparkler happy?” Varric was grinning as he scribbled in his notebook, “He needs to be happy more often.”

“The Iron Bull can do that!” Cole happily informed everyone, it looked to Bull like the boy was very pleased that his gift didn’t have people angry at him for once.

“Yeah…well.” Bull scratched his jaw having no idea what actually brought on Dorian’s mood but he liked it. He liked how Dorian had looked and smelled today, how he was different, how he was showing a side of himself usually locked away even from him.

“You don’t need to know The Iron Bull. You just need to be.” Cole was staring at Bull and the warrior just shook his head. Training was going to be difficult today, because he had a feeling that a certain uncharacteristically chipper mage was going to be invading his thoughts continuously.


	15. Not in the tent!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ohhhh yes, Dorian's plan is working and Bull is annoyed at everyone because he just wants Dorian.

Bull sighed and allowed himself to be hit, using the pain he felt to strengthen himself and increase his strength using the flat side of him axe to knock a soldier completely away from him then turning to kick another who was running up behind him…yelling and completely giving away his position. The flat kick to the man’s chest was mildly satisfying as Bull had to soften the blow a little and push-kick rather than just break the man’s ribs altogether.

“Flank him properly! You’d be sliced in two if he had used the blade of his axe! You! Stop screaming unnecessarily and just attack!” Cullen was calling instructions and criticisms as he stalked around the edges of the ring pacing back and forward like a worried mother duck. He groaned as the one who had been hit with the axe also screamed as he charged.

Bull felt for the Commander. These were some of the veteran soldiers, but it didn’t mean that they were soldiers of training, no, in war it just meant that they had more battle experience. He was helping in this training session because few troops had ever fought someone of his specialty and that in itself was unpredictable. The first time he had let himself be hit they had balked and paused in fighting not knowing what to do, they would have been dead in a real fight. He was a little proud to see the real Templar veterans standing around nodding in approval and discussing how to take him down. Bull didn’t really have to pay attention to the fight. He saw some of the Templars instructing other soldiers on what Cullen meant by ‘flanking properly.’ Honestly if Bull had to take down a few of the better Templars he would have to pay attention.

“No no no! Stop!” Cullen called when Bull neatly stepped backward, and the two soldiers had crashed into each other after they had finally managed to flank him but did not have the foresight to keep each other in their sights. Battlefield awareness was not something these guys were good at. The clang of metal and the clunking of their helmets together was comical, but it was a good thing they were just using the training swords and not their real weapons like Bull or there would be real damage.

Bull placed the head of his axe on the ground and leaned on the pommel. Standing to attention to Cullen. It would do no good to undermine the Commander in this situation, so he didn’t bark instructions or criticisms like he would have the Chargers (Krem especially since he expected more from the man), but he did look around for any sign of Dorian. And there he was. Sitting in the shade of a tent staring at Bull like he was the only man on earth. He was here, it was a little before noon, and as he had suggested he was here watching the training. Bull had no idea what the man had done for most of the morning but he was pleased that he had come down like he said he would.

Bull straightened and smiled at the mage and Dorian, Dorian smiled back while one of his hand sneakily stole into his robe. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment before he was back to his normal prim and controlled self.

 _Shit_. The man was more distracting than a giant lumbering towards him. Now all Bull could think of was leaving this Maker-cursed training, dragging Dorian into that tent and swallowing him down to the hilt to make him squirm and come so hard he saw stars.

“Right. Again!” Bull came back to attention and saw that the soldiers had been physically placed in flanking position and they had each other in line of sight. Bull hefted his axe and crouched, ready, but then the two charged at exactly the same time, with their weapons drawn in exactly the same way. Bull dropped his axe low stepped around one of the men and simply pushed him into the other one using their own momentum to send them stumbling. A ripple of groans coursed through the audience and Cullen. At least they hadn’t yelled this time.

Bull glanced over at Dorian who was in peals of laughter, was clutching his stomach as he tried to stifle his mirth, soldiers didn’t really like people laughing at them unless they were their own, luckily Dorian was quite out of the way and no one was paying attention to him. Bull really didn’t want to be here right now.

“Okay let’s take a break! I’m going to check the other groups. We will start again in 15 minutes!” There was a general noise of discord as if the people watching wanted to continue, but Cullen was the one that needed a break, not them.

“Ser, can I ask something?” One of the soldiers that had been training with Bull spoke up.

“Yes soldier, what is it?”

The man glanced at Bull and nodded, “I was just wondering why The Iron Bull can yell and we can’t? It’s something that I’m finding I need to really try to control. I’m just curious.”

Cullen, ever the kind man. Simply nodded and stated, “A good question.” Then he turned into a bastard, “I’ll let The Iron Bull explain.” Then he sauntered off pleased with himself while Bull was seething that the man had unintentionally stopped him from going to speak to Dorian. Bull wondered if the man would look so smug if a boot was thrown at his head.

The man who had asked had turned starry eyes towards Bull waiting for the answer, others also stood around waiting to hear while the other more experienced soldiers and Templars who knew the answer went off to the trough to get a drink. Bull sighed, he wanted to go to Dorian damn it! But decided to answer, like a bandage, get it over quickly then you can do what you want.

“Right, well, you know that I’m a warrior? But you are all too. The difference between us is our function and our style of fighting.”

They all nodded in understanding.

“I’m a Reaver, sort of. That means that the more I hurt the more powerful I become. I channel my pain into strength and push it into more damage. You’re not at that stage and you may never be. Commander Cullen only gets hit to protect, his fighting style is completely different to mine, you won’t seem him yelling much unless it’s his motivational speeches.”

“I yell to get the bad guys attention. I’m the biggest threat on the field because I’m the noisiest and the loudest. They will come after me before they focus on a rogue silently killing everyone or a mage laying down traps and exploding people. You know I’ve failed when people start to go after them, the squishies are the real threat. I just pretend I am.” Bull chuckled at the thought of Dorian hearing him refer to mages as ‘squishies.’

“So, we should just ignore warriors?” They were getting confused.

Bull laughed, “You can try, but a good warrior if left unoccupied will be just as deadly and kill just as many people.”

“There’s so much to think about.” Another man intoned.

“Yep.” Bull finished quickly as he hefted his axe again happily sensing the conversation coming to a close. “But that’s why you have good men like Commander Cullen to tell you what to do and give you objectives that you can think about.”

They all nodded in assent, pleased to hear they were in good hands with Cullen. “Now go get something to drink.” They scattered and Bull was finally released! Elated he jogged over to Dorian who was still sitting regally in the chair- how he managed to do that in a cloth chair that was almost a hammock was a strange skill Bull wasn’t surprised Dorian had. He was so damn gorgeous, his pretty mage.

“Hey Big Guy. Enjoying the view?” Bull flexed his bicep a little to tantalize the mage, and it worked, the man’s eyes flicked quickly down then back up again to meet his, and now he would deny it and play all flustered.

Dorian smiled, “Yes.” Then the hand that was on the arm of the low chair slid to his crotch where fingers skimmed lightly over tight leather, “Are you?”

Bull grinned and Dorian was staring openly with appreciation at Bull’s body. For all his complaining about how much Bull stank he never did seem to mind clean training sweat. Bull figured Dorian had more of a problem when it was during battle, when bits of other people started rotting on Bull because there was no way to wash off after every fight. Dorian didn’t have to worry much, he usually stayed far away from the exploding bits (even if he was the one doing the exploding). He never really had to worry about being covered in other people’s blood, which did not make a pleasant smell upon drying. No, Bull was the one to cop being the living meat rack.

Dorian loathed that smell, but Bull’s clean sweat from exercise, his scent from exertion, Dorian seemed to revel in it and from the look in his eyes, he was really into how Bull was looking right now. Bull eyed the noticeable bulge in the front of Dorian’s leggings and was suddenly very angry again that he was had to train the soldiers and not be with Dorian.

 “Hey Dorian, about this morning.” Bull started, hoping to clear any misunderstanding about him not instigating anything intimate with the mage.

 “Please _Amatus_ , no need for explanation. I am very aware that you are a valuable member of the Inquisition as are the Charges. They needed you. I have to share you.” Dorians eyes crinkled with his smile.

 “I must say,” Dorian uncrossed his legs and spread them apart slightly Bull stared, Dorian’s thighs were things of beauty, thick and strong for a human, and even not  wrapped around his waist or even neck, they were worthy of worship, “I have enjoyed watching you from my viewing platform.” Bull stepped closer so he was in between those lovely thighs as the mage sat up and placed two hands against Bull’s own thighs. He ran them up and down in small movements, smiling up at the warrior the whole time.

 “Perhaps,” Dorian paused and glanced around quickly, “we might have a little interlude in the tent before you must return to bashing people on the head?” With that, he stood fluidly and taking Bull’s fingers led the man into the small tent. Bull’s spine tingled and his ears twitched a little, he felt watched, he straightened up a little and turned around so he could catch who was snooping on his and Dorian’s no-so private moment. Back at the training ring the soldiers who had been around were all staring at he and Dorian, some them had huge grins on their faces and were giving him thumbs ups a few in rather explicit places, flicking their thumbs up and down. Bull grinned looked back at the mage who was leading him into he tent.

The tent flap had barely closed and Bull could hear whoops and whistles trailing after them but he ignored them as Dorian reached up to pull his face down. He kissed slowly, gently pulling at Bull’s bottom lip before swiping his tongue against the other man’s. His hands were all over Bull’s head and face, his fingers scratched gently at the base of horns, then cupped the shaved skull drawing him in and keeping him close. Bull growled low at the scratching, it felt so god to have his horns scratched and Dorian now had it down to a knee-weakening art.

Bull was lost as he dragged the smaller man towards him, enjoying the hard poke against his thigh. He broke the kiss and ran him nose and lips down that enticing brown neck while his hands stole into the back of Dorian’s pants. Bull groaned when he had two handfuls of glorious flesh and he squeezed them hard, kneading them while he ground Dorian against him. Dorian was breathing hot puffs of air against his ear while rubbing up against him, the sounds he was making only made Bull harder.

Bull growled and viciously spread Dorian’s cheeks apart one final time before eagerly dipping his fingers into the man’s crack, intent on fingering him while sucking on the man’s tongue. He stopped when he encountered something hard and warm. He pulled back in question looking into his mage’s face, but Dorian just held him tight, one leg now wrapped around Bull’s waist and he rubbed himself hard against the available hip.  “More Bull, please.” He all but whimpered into the man’s pointed ear, his voice more breath than anything else.

 “What’s this _Kadan_?” Bull settled his fingers against the smooth surface in Dorian’s crack.

Dorian’s whisper was all breath against Bull’s sensitive ear, “Plug _Amatus_. My plug. Play with it.” With that Dorian bit at Bull’s ear while the Qunari grinned. Shit his lover was hot.

oOo

Dorian was going to explode. He was so hot and his skin sang with desire, he felt every hair on him stand up with interest as Bull’s tongue and lips dragged down his neck to settle at his collarbone. He hitched a leg up and over Bull’s hip rubbing his painfully hard shaft against Bull’s solid warm thigh. He sighed at the relief to the pressure it gave while pushing back at Bull’s exploring hands. He loved how the man’s hands were so large they seemed to engulf all of him as they squeezed and pulled. He was jostling the plug without even realizing it and spiked of delicious pleasure were pulsing in Dorian’s blood.

When he whispered in Bull’s ear the man growled, lifted Dorian up, took two steps into the tent before lowering them carefully onto the ground – that was thankfully covered by tent flooring. Dorian laughed with delight as Bull settled himself between his spread thighs, one hand rudely down the back of his pants pressing and maneuvering the plug around Dorian’s hole. Dorian held his arms together in front of him, trapped by his lover’s bigger bulk, held Bull’s face and kissed him. It was sweet and hot at the same time. And when Bull managed to push the plug just right Dorian tore away from the kiss to arch and gasp.

 “Shit. So hot.” Bull’s voice was low and growled as he rucked up the top of Dorian’s robes, the larger man’s hands impatient and fast. But he kept up that delicious pressure, grinding their hips together, making the mage leak pre-come on his stomach.

 “How ‘bout I suck you off _Kadan_? Right here in this tent where anyone could hear you?” The bull was at his head again, breathing into his ear while he rocked against Dorian.

 “That would be…” But Dorian’s reply was cut off with a throaty groan as Bull yanked at the plug so it strained against his rim before easing it back in. The man was a huge tease.

 “Or maybe I’ll just pull this out and replace it with my tongue. I know how much you like being eaten out _Kadan_.”

Dorian wasn’t being combative for once and nodded eagerly while his hands trailed everywhere they could. Scratching Bull’s neck, rubbing his horns, grabbing those impressive back muscles, he couldn’t seem to touch enough skin. Bull grabbed his hands and pushed them above Dorian’s head, stretching the mage out even more. He grinned down at Dorian and when he tried to lean up for a kiss Bull swooped down only to latch his mouth against the underside of Dorian’s arm right above his left armpit.

Dorian bucked as Bull sucked the flesh hard, then bit down, the sweet pain of pressure then sting making Dorian’s cock twitch. Dorian was half mad when Bull dragged his tongue up and over the sensitive underside of his bicep only to open his mouth wide and bite down on the muscle.

 “Bull!” Dorian squeezed his eyes shut and tried to rub against his lover more, there wasn’t enough friction, he needed more.

“Shhh, I got you Big Guy. Sweet _kadan_. Don’t you worry.” Bull’s voice was teasing now as he let go of Dorian’s arms.

oOo

Bull admired the mark on Dorian’s arm. The mage did let him mark him, just as long as it didn’t ruin his aesthetic and Bull enjoyed marking that bronze skin. What a picture Dorian made. His eyes lidded with desire, his lips swollen, and above his pants peaking out was the reddened head of his cock. Bull shifted down, eager to taste the mage. He held the man’s waist as he swept his tongue across everything that was visible before poking his tongue into the slit tasting that salty bitterness of Dorian.

Dorian’s hands had moved to his horns, a tight grip but not directing as Bull pulled that wonderful spongy piece of flesh into his mouth with a wet suck.

 “Bullbullbullbull…” Dorian was chanting now as his hips tried to lift upwards, chasing after Bull’s mouth. “Bull please.”

With a final lick Bull relented and shifted up covering Dorian’s body with his mass once against and claiming the mage’s mouth. “All right sweetheart. You…”

 “Chief!” Krem’s voice sounded outside the tent. He sounded mildly put-out. Certainly not as much as Bull was. He almost saw red. He growled.

 “What!?” He snapped, turning his head towards the closed tent flaps while his hands continued to paw at Dorian’s clothes.

 “Chief. Break’s over. They need you again! Stop banging the Altus and get your ass out here!”

 “Fuck off!” Bull scolded his Lieutenant before turning back to more important matters like the wonderful mage in his arms – who was looking at him with a look that made his chest ache in a strange way – he never wanted it to stop. He placed his palm against Dorian’s cheek and ran his thumb over the delicate skin under his eye, over that cute beauty mark. Dorian smiled.

 “Chief if you aren’t out here in 10 seconds I’m coming in there to get your fat arse.”

 “You do that and I’m docking your pay!” Bull was desperate, he wanted Dorian, he wanted the rest of the world to go away and leave him and his _Kadan_ alone to have each other, but he also knew that wheile he himself didn’t care about being caught in compromising positions Dorian’s no doubt would, and his shit Lieutenant _would_ come into the tent he was that pig-headed.

 “Dorian! Are you in there?” Bull didn’t get a choice, suddenly he was sitting up and quickly flicking down Dorian’s robes to cover his still visible reddened cock head as the Inquisitor strode in.

The man should have been a Ben-Hassrath, he just took in the scene and said, “Having some fun, were we?”

 “Oh, you know me Inquisitor. I am the very personification of fun.” Bull looked back at the mage. Dorian was still lying down, but his arms were above his head again as he smiled at his friend while he stretched, Bull felt his jaw clench, he wanted to bite those stretched muscles again, lick them all over. Max just rolled his eyes.

 “You told me to come find you and this is what you’re doing?” Bull’s head turned at that. Dorian had asked the Inquisitor to come find him? Why, perhaps that was why Dorian wasn’t freaking out? Max continued, “Also, Krem’s about to have puppies.” Max stated as he threw his head in the direction of Krem who was marching into the tent now.

The other man’s nose scrunched up, “Maker, it reeks of sex in here.” And he fanned his hand across his face, Bull was about to protest about how they didn’t even get close to that when he was cut off quickly. “You,” he pointed at Bull’s face, “Outside now.”

Bull did not like this. He was horny, aching and now being told off by his younger, weaker subordinate. “Who’s the boss of this company?” He was not sulking.

 “You are, but on the occasions where your judgment cannot be trusted I overrule you, you made that rule remember?” Krem was leaning in and his finger was stabbing air to make his point before he straightened up and made a placating gesture, “Sorry about this Altus.”

 “ _Nothing to apologise about Cremisius Aclasssi_.” Dorian’s Tevene flowed out with a gentle flourish of his hand. His eyes still lidded but dancing with mirth which Bull found interesting considering his legs were still spread and Bull was still in-between them in what could be an embarrassing position for Dorian, but the mage looked…comfortable. Bull was not feeling as benevolent as Dorian and decided that yes, he was sulking, he was man enough to admit it. Krem just bowed a little at the mage before turning his very critical eyes on Bull, he even raised his eyebrow in what Bull knew was his ‘expectation’ expression.

 “I don’t fuckin’ see why they still need me, you are obviously the one in charge why don’t you fucking do it?” Bull put extra snark in his voice to show his disapproval.

 “Bull?” Dorian’s soft voice filled his ears and he looked down at his mage who was smiling sweetly at him before a hand beckoned him close. He was helpless not to follow as the mage gently kissed him. Bull could help but try to turn it into more, but Dorian pulled away with a soft peck. “Do not be nasty to Cremisius. You made a commitment, we will meet up later.” With that he put his hand against Bull’s shoulder and pushed the man up.

He allowed himself to be moved into a sitting position as Dorian sat up, straightened his clothes and stood. “It’s ‘kittens’ Max.”

Bull watched as the Herald crossed his arms and tilted his head, “I swear, it’s puppies.” He argued. Bull shook his head, sometimes those two were so fiendishly close that people not privy to their minds had to sprint to catch up with them.

 “Kittens.” Dorian said again while tugging on the strap of Bull’s harness. “I will see you later _Amatus,_ ” he leaned in to give an achingly sweet kiss to Bull’s brow while the warrior cursed his day planning yet again.

He stood swiftly, scooping Dorian up to his chest and claiming those soft lips again, “Promise?” He felt Dorian pat his chest soothingly.

“Of course. Train well. Thank you for finding me Inquisitor, shall we go?” Dorian stepped out of his arms and lead Maxwell out of the tent arguing the finer points of the idiom the man had managed to butcher.

“Come on Chief.” Krem held the tent flap open with a suffering sigh. A sigh he didn’t deserve because in Bull’s own opinion _he_ was the injured party. He was going to have to fight with blue balls. He grumbled as he marched out of the tent cursing everything that wasn’t Dorian.

“Cheer up Chief. The Altus will be there tonight to kiss your boo boos away.” Krem sniggered. Bull planted one massive hand on the man’s shoulder and gave a quick, powerful shove. Krem tumbled sideways, arms flailing as he fell rather ungracefully to his arse, then quickly got up cursing about cranky over-sexed bastards.

It only cheered Bull up slightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, all for reading! I hope you enjoy it, writing sexy parts is difficult! T________T


	16. Relief, finally!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian's plan comes to fruition and Bull is frustrated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this was difficult! I generally don't write sex scenes so please judge gently! Yeeeeeee  
> I hope you enjoy it.

Later that night Bull was in the worst mood. The training had been useful but long and boring, Krem had managed to twist his ankle during their “creative fighting” sessions and the man was even more stubborn about injuries than Bull was and then Bull had had to talk Skinner down after a younger soldier who was frustrated with his inability to beat her called her a “knife-ear.” All-in-all a fan-fucking-tastic day. To top all this marvelousness off, Dorian was missing.

 Bull had purposely gone to the hall to eat tonight, thinking that he could meet up with the mage and spend a nice evening with him talking, bantering, perhaps even making him squirm with that plug in him before going to his room and finally fucking like bunnies, but he realised that they hadn’t actually planned when or where to meet up. After the shit day he had he could have used the mage’s brand of “suck-it-up and stop whining.” But Dorian was nowhere to be found and Bull had to have dinner with Varric and some random Orlesian nobles who were pottering around trying to look important. It didn’t escape Bull’s notice that The Inquisitor was also missing.

He’d gone to his room. Nothing. He’d gone to Dorian’s room. Nothing. He’d searched the library too but was informed that Dorian hadn’t been there all day. He’d gone to Liliana and she just said that she’d last seen Dorian with Max walking around the battlements. He’d gone to the cellars and even that strange little library that gave him the creeps (of course Dorian loved it in there) and still nothing. Finally, he’d gone to the baths and found nothing but soldiers from the training and he gave up and decided he would soak there instead. He knew Dorian would keep his promise, he neither as well make himself presentable for the man who had made effort for him, still, shit day, impatient and mostly still aroused did not a happy Bull make. Thankfully no one spoke to him aside from a few acknowledging nods, so he was able to brood in silence.

He brought his hand up and wiped his face hoping to wash away the annoyance when his hand hit leather. Then he did laugh. Dorian had distracted him so much he hadn’t even taken off his eye patch to bathe. He slumped in the water. _Fuck it_. Bull stood, he needed to find Dorian now.

An hour later and he stomped into the Herald’s Rest, determined to question everyone about where Dorian might be.

He passed Krem who was standing on his chair again. “Get down before you break your damn ankle.” It came out as a growl and Krem sensibly got off the chair.

“What’s up your arse Chief?” Krem, now at a normal Krem-height took a swig of his beer obviously not terribly interested in Bull’s dilemma.

“How about my Lieutenant getting his ankle sprained?” Bull poked Krem in the chest and the soldier just laughed.

“Ah it was for a greater good. Did you see the way they ran when that apple barrel exploded?” Krem laughed as his voice got louder to signal to Rocky they were talking about it again. They raised their mugs in salute to each other.

 “Do it but don’t get hurt.” Bull stated seriously, “Have you seen…”

  “Bull!” The warrior turned around to see Maxwell grinning like a fool and coming down the stairs. He looked a bit pink. He didn’t stop until he was in front of him, “You’re finally here. Dorian’s waiting for you up…”

 "Night Chief!” He heard Krem call and he raised a backhanded wave in acknowledgment while practically sprinting to his room. When he got to his door he paused and took some deep breaths trying to calm himself a little while scraping his horns along the door a little. It wouldn’t do to shoot his load like an inexperienced teenager when Dorian had gone to so much trouble. No, he needed to calm down so he could enjoy this longer.

 Mentally renewed and with a final scrape just for the hell of it (and because it felt nice), Bull stood straight and opened his door.

The sight he was greeted with winded him as his senses were assaulted with the scent of fresh citrus oils, sandalwood and soft glowing orange mage-light. His room hosted gentle flickering orbs of orange while in the middle of his bed was a very naked, and very beautiful Dorian.

 “ _Kadan?”_ Bull whispered almost afraid to break the spell. Dorian shifted, he was on his shoulders and knees, his arse raised temptingly in the air and Bull could see the tell-tale signs of some rope. Even in the gentle light he could see Dorian’s face was flushed, his lips parted as he panted softly.

 “Bull? Please tell me you’ve closed the door. I didn’t hear it close.” Bull stepped forward and quickly closed the door and locking it before moving towards the stunning mage. “Surprise!” Dorian sang, he was blindfolded, and his head turned in an approximation of where he thought Bull was.

 He quickly sobered, “Bull, please, I’m really quite over-cooked.” That was all he said before he started shifting around trying to get closer to Bull after then man crossed over to the bed.

 Bull took in the sight, all the annoyance of the day running out of him, he reached out but stopped first, “I’m going to touch your back, is that okay?” Communication at the start was important to Bull and Dorian nodded enthusiastically in response. Bull lay his hand flat on Dorian’s flank and the man positively melted.

 “How long have you been in here _Kadan_? I came straight after training and my room was empty.” He stroked that warm skin and sat down, enjoying how his weight sank the mattress and pulled Dorian towards him.

 “Since after dinner. Max and I didn’t think it would be sensible for me to be like this for too long but then you didn’t come here after dinner and I was starting to think you were going to have another one of your drinking nights.” Dorian was rambling.

“How did you do all this?” Bull now put two hands on the mage’s back rubbing up and down hopefully helping some circulation.

Dorian sighed at the contact, “Max helped me. He thought it all very funny.” That explained the shit-eating grin and blush the man had sported when he came down the stairs. Dorian considered the scout that must have been watching and wondered what he or she might have thought during that particular moment was it the usual ‘Oh yes, typical Tevinter, can’t stay faithful, nasty scum’ litany, it didn’t matter though, because Dorian knew the truth, and if he thought about it the scout would too soon.

“Wait, was he in here the whole time?”

“Oh no. He was guarding your door waiting for you, so he could get you. I think he brought a book.”

Bull saw a ribbon sash had been tied around Dorian’s waist with a huge but decidedly uncoordinated bow resting on top of the man’s arse. He tapped the bow. “Was this his idea?”

“Like I said. He thinks he’s funny. Please take the bow off me, I was going for sensual, not comedic.” Bull obeyed, “I told him you already knew about the plug but he wouldn’t listen.” Bull could hear Dorian’s smirk and shifted around to take a good look.

There resting between Dorian’s cheeks was the plug. It was black and extended to his taint and when Bull rested his hands on one firm globe Dorian arched toward him, “ _Amatus_ I’ve been wearing that all day, I didn’t take it out once.”

Bull sighed and leaned forward to press a long kiss on one of Dorian’s cheeks, allowing his breath to hint to Dorian what he was doing, he enjoyed the way Dorian’s flesh resisted against his face, it was so firm, but soft. “So sexy. My _Kadan._ ” And Bull ran a long trail with his tongue along Dorian’s left cheek. He sighed again in awe of the man before him.

 “Do you like your surprise?” Bull could hear the slight uncertainty in Dorian’s voice, he’d evidently taken his sigh as something else entirely.

  “I love it. But I’m not too thrilled about someone else rope work. I have no idea how it will react.” He stated honestly while inspecting the ties at Dorian’s wrists.

 “Oh. Well, it was just for effect. You can redo them.” Dorian sounded a bit rushed. It was cute. Bull started picking at the ropes while kissing Dorian’s cheek. Giving some affection to that lovely beauty mark that was just under the blindfold.

 He growled as one knot was proving difficult. “This,” he gently shook the knot hoping to loosen it, “this is dangerous. Some other man’s knots. I don’t know what he’s done, what if you were hurt? I know my knots, I know how strong they are, what the tension is, what will happen if you pull, what colour best suits your skin, what knots best suite you.” He was explaining himself gently, and it all sounded logical, but there was something in his chest calling him a liar. That wasn’t the _only_ reason he wanted those strange ties off his lover. Finally, with smug satisfaction, he threw the rope away then grabbed the mage’s wrists pulling them to his groin. He grinned when both of Dorian’s hands automatically curled around his dick in what almost felt like a hug.

“I love the surprise. I’ve been loving it all day.”  Bull was serious as he allowed Dorian to feel is massive erection and the mage let out a delighted chuckle, “But _Kadan_ ,’ Bull lay back and pull his lover on top of him as he went, their skin sliding together warmly then settling, “How about we just leave the blindfold on?” He ran his hands down Dorian’s back till they reached the bottom of his arse and pulled up, suddenly Dorian was face to face with Bull, his legs spread wide around Bull’s middle with his cock trapped between their bodies.

Dorian sighed as he nodded, “I do so love this.” And he rocked himself against Bull’s stomach as he leaned up to capture Dorian’s lips in a kiss while his hand wandered down to the plug.  
  


oOo  
  


Dorian gasped as Bull expertly circled the plug around inside him. The man pulled at it before letting it sink deep into his body before tapping it and grinding it down on his taint. Dorian rode the sensations as he rubbed himself against Bull’s belly smearing it with pre-cum. Bull was making small appreciative noises interspersed with praise, “Beautiful, so good, keep going gorgeous.” Dorian barely heard the litany but knew they were all sweet offerings that his soul ate up greedily.

It wasn’t enough, he scrambled upwards as best he could to latch onto Bull’s mouth in a kiss. Dorian melted as his tongue was rubbed by Bull’s surprisingly soft lips tugged at his. His hands flexed against that strong chest as he continued to rub against smooth skin. Dorian pull away to breathe a little and he heard Bull chuckle.

“Changed my mind.”

 “Wha?” Dorian started to ask what the other man meant when he was quite suddenly manhandled onto all fours. The bull was unnervingly fast but gentle when he wanted to be.

 “There we go.” Bull sounded infinitely pleased and didn’t give Dorian time to adjust before he was tugging at the plug again. Slowly with great care Bull eased the plug out of Dorian’s over-sensitive hole. Dorian let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in a great sigh before reaching down to palm at his cock and balls.

 Bull rumbled, “You ready? Or do you need a little more?”

 Dorian arched his rear up higher, knowing how attractive the Qunari found his arse before pleading, “A little more, just a bit more Bull. Please”

He felt the other man move closer, his heat a wonderful warmth near the backs of his thighs. Then two massive hands were spreading him apart and hot breath passed over him, “Since you asked so nicely.” Bull’s voice was soft before he started lapping at Dorian’s opening, his tongue sliding slowly over the puckered flesh before stopping to swirl luxuriously in hot, wet circles.

Dorian groaned, he loved this, it was so intimate, and before Bull he had never dared to ask any of his lovers to perform such an act. It had been Bull that had suddenly sprung it on him one day during a blow job, and Dorian’s reaction had been so strong there was no hiding from the former spy how much he enjoyed it. He still felt the hot slow pleasure that Bull pulled from him when he ate him out, his legs shook while his fingers clenched the sheets to him while he desperately tried not to just shove back onto Bull’s mouth more.

 Bull was making obscene noises with his mouth, wet sucking noises while he valiantly tried to push his tongue deeper and deeper into Dorian’s hole. Then two fingers were pulling the mage apart and Dorian’s whole body shuddered when Bull delved relentlessly into him, his tongue stroking the walls of Dorian’s insides while the man himself bit back a shameless moan.

  He felt Bull’s tongue fluttering quickly around his rim before pushing deep again, the hot wet flesh pushing around, teasing and lathing his insides. Then the fingers were gone, and Bull’s tongue was a hot squirming muscle, trapped inside Dorian’s arse. Dorian moaned and pushed back, heatedly wishing Bull’s tongue was longer. Bull’s lips attached themselves to his pucker and the man sucked hard, finally Dorian cried out, his skin sensitive and wet, Bull’s stubble scraping him and finally that tongue was thrusting in and out of him. He felt Bull’s moan against his skin as he finally shoved back hard, wanting more, Bull rewarded him with a final stabbing push of his tongue before he pulled away with a wet pop.

 Dorian whined pushing back, all but chasing that now missing mouth. “Easy _Kadan_.” Dorian felt a placating kiss on his right arse cheek. “We’re still waiting for the good part.” Dorian just panted, too strained to do much else.

Two fingers spread him open. The familiar pop of the cork from their oil filled the air before he felt the liquid being poured directly into his hole.

 “ _Kaffas_! Bull! That’s…that’s!” Dorian scolded while the man just chuckled.

 “You’re just sore because I can get it the oil right inside you because you’re so hungry for it.” Bull spoke calmly with a hint of mirth in his voice, “You know _kadan_. I can see the oil pool inside you and then it disappears, your arse greedily sucking it in.”

 “Bull!” Dorian tried to move away, embarrassed and aflame, but Bull held him still, a large arm coming around his waist and trapping it, while two fingers started to thrust in and out of Dorian.

 “It’s okay big guy. It’s hot.” He continued scissoring his finger as he spoke, “You think if I were to put the bottle rim inside you, your arse would drink it up? Imagine that, all that oil. You’d be slick and messy, my cock would slide right in wouldn’t it?”

 “Bull. Bull stop please.” Dorian couldn’t deny the thought made him hot despite how dirty Bull was being, the man made him feel so sexy and wanton. Like he could do anything, but propriety dictated he be outraged.

Bull laughed, and Dorian felt the bed shift. “Now _Amatus_?”

“Mmm now.” And with that Bull started to push into him. Dorian breathed with relief. Finally. After a day of the plug, Bull’s teasing and all that oil, he finally had that fat cock pushing into him and stretching him. Bull didn’t stop, he just slowly kept pushing until finally, he was flush against his backside.

 “So…full.” Dorian breath hitched, adjusting to the massive cock inside him, he swore he could feel Bull’s blood pulsing through his dick against the walls of his arse, and the slight twitch up and down as his lover flexed his cock. He squeezed back in response, pleased to get a nice deep growl out of the larger man. He had always been sensitive, as if his nerves felt everything. Bull had always been pleased and happy with how much Dorian responded to his touch,

Then Bull’s warm hands gripped his hips and the slow drag of fucking began. Dorian felt himself being pushed off Bull’s dick before the man eased back into him, building a steady rhythm. He wondered what a picture they made to the hidden scout he could not think they were anything but attractive perhaps eye-opening, he certainly felt sensual. The “Faster Bull. I’m ready.” Dorian was rewarded when Bull quickly pulled out then slammed back into him. His eyes rolled behind the blindfold as white-hot pleasure burned through him as Bull hit that one spot within him.

“Faster?” Bull growled.

“Yes! So good.” Dorian didn’t have time for more words as Bull began his onslaught of relentless fucking. He shoved into Dorian quickly before pulling out just as fast, setting a brutal pace that had Dorian shifting forward on the bed from the force of it. The hard slap of flesh filled the room and the headboard knocking tellingly against the stone wall.

Dorian rubbed his face against the pillows, lost in the sensation of Bull’s pistoning hips, his pleasure building quickly as Bull hit that spot repeatedly. His cock was leaking and so full it was almost painful. He reached down to grip himself and relieve some pressure when he was suddenly pushed down, a pillow shoved under his hips as Bull bore his full weight down on him.

He was trapped beneath hot, hard and sweaty male, the Bull’s grunts heard above his head as the man ground down into him. His heavy weight was heaven against Dorian’s back and he could feel Bull’s cock with his arse cheeks as he was trapped against the bed.

 “So hot _Kadan_. You’re so good.” Bull’s praise carried over Dorian as the man flattened himself against the mage, only his hips moving up and down quick powerful strikes. What Dorian wouldn’t give to be able to see Bull’s arse cheeks flexing with effort one day while he was pounding into him. Those powerful thighs clenching up as they strained to keep up the effort to maintain speed and strength.

 He reached in front of him. Finger finding Bull’s hands as he wound them together. He was close now. The friction from the pillow against his cock and Bull’s thick prick filling him, again and again, was pushing him over the edge. “Faster. Faster. Close.” Dorian begged.

 “Shit _Kadan_.” Bull sounded pained as he sped up, somehow angling his thrusts so that he hit Dorian’s sweet spot each time.

Dorian held his breath, squeezed his eyes shut. He breathed heavily as he concentrated on the feelings of being pounded and rubbed, quickly the hot pleasure from his stretched neck, clenched teeth and straining fingers blazed as his core erupted in an overly sensitive release. He cried out through his teeth, hands clawing brutally at Bull’s hands as his dick pulsed against the pillow and he exploded with pleasure. His body froze as it thrummed with exquisite energy, ropes of his come, spilling out with every heartbeat, smothered against the pillow beneath him as he came.

He rode the wave as Bull still pounded into him, then came a short shout above him and he felt Bull’s whole body tense as he emptied himself into Dorian. Pulse after pulse of hot liquid forced itself into Dorian and he groaned with the feeling of Bull releasing himself so deep within him.

  The larger man was still shoving himself further and further into Dorian, but each thrust was slowing and starting to linger only when he was fully inside Dorian before finally he shuddered and stopped still buried deep with the mage. Dorian flopped face first against the pillows, enjoying the way his heart was still hammering but his muscles starting to relax. He squeezed Bull’s dick again with his arse and the man groaned before gently laying himself against Dorian without crushing him this time.

 “Okay?” Dorian was pleased that Bull sounded out of breath and enjoyed that easy warmth that crept through him as Bull enquired about his well-being.

 “I think you killed me.” His voice was unrecognizable, he was, after all, speaking into a pillow. Thick fingers wriggled their way between chin and pillow and Dorian’s face was turned for him.

“What was that big guy?”

 “I said I think you killed me.” Bull’s response was a warm laugh. Dorian scrunched his nose as the blindfold was removed and he opened his eyes to a moonlit room. He hadn’t managed to keep the magelight up after all. He was cooling quickly, the sweat from their activities rapidly catching the draft air, but Bull’s massive bulk was staving away the worst of it.

“Urg.” Dorian groaned, “I can feel you leaking out of me.”

Bull chuckled, “Yep. Filled you up good.” To emphasize his point Bull thrust his still hard cock in and out of Dorian a few times, his come forcing its way out of Dorian around Bull’s prick. Dorian hissed before groaning too, he was too sensitive now.

 “Stop that, you are obscene!” Dorian complained half-heartedly while blindly and rather weakly swatting Bull’s flank.

 “Aww you just want to make sure there’s some left in there for later, when you’re walking around. Your smalls will get all dirty with it trickling out of you, then you can remember how it all got in there.” Bull teased, but he did slowly ease out now that his cock had softened a little, why it took him so long to go completely soft was a mystery to Dorian, a mystery he put down to Qunari physiology.

 Dorian gave the most eloquent reply he could manage at that moment, which was to burrow deeper into the pillows. He felt the bed jerk and was about to whine again about being jostled when he heard the wash basin being filled. Bull was next to him again.

“Hey big guy, think you can manage a warming spell?”

 Dorian put on an insulted face and lazily drew a glyph over the water without looking. Could he manage a warming spell indeed.  Bull placed the basin on the nightstand and set about cleaning Dorian up. “Do you need Elfroot on this?” Bull’s large blunt finger gently traced down Dorian’s crack. It felt tender, but not sore.

 “No, I am fine.” A few quick and effectively gently swipes with a cloth and Dorian was a clean as he could be considering how messy they got, he heard the cloth land with a wet smack somewhere in the room, he hoped it went where the laundry was supposed to go. Bull got up and carried the basin away.

Dorian watched Bull through sleepy eyes as he pulled the cover over himself, the man was splashing and rinsing his face with water. Then Bull gargled some of that overpoweringly minted herb stuff that smelled like it could clean the inside of a latrine, it made Dorian’s eyes sting. He loved the smell on Bull. Finally, the larger man lumbered over, glorious and naked, grabbing extra pillows that covered a chair and threw them on top of Dorian’s head. Dorian didn’t even move. Bull laughed.

“Move over big guy.” Dorian inched over, slowly, head still buried under pillows and taking all the coverings with him as he wormed away to make room with the larger man’s significant bulk.

The bed dipped drastically, the pillows were gone and suddenly Dorian was pulled back against Bull’s front. He snuggled back and lifted an arm to at least attempt to give Bull some covers. He craned his neck up and saw all the pillows tucked under Bull’s head.

“Wanted to cuddle did you?” Dorian yawned and gently patted the arm that was under his head.

“Yeah. It’s not that comfortable, but the pillows make it possible, I’ll probably switch back when I fall asleep, but I wanted to hold you.” Bull’s voice was sure but soft in the darkness.

The sounds from the tavern below still filtered through, an occasional bark of laughter and the clinking of mugs drifted through the poorly made flooring. Below the door the warm orange light of the inn cast a gentle glow into the room, and on the other side, the moon shone blue through the hole in the roof, stars flickering carefully in the ink-black sky.

Dorian sank deeper into his lover’s arms, boneless and sated but turned at the last minute. He looked up to see Bull looking down at him, some soft unreadable expression on his face. Dorian reached a ring-less hand up to that stubbled jaw and his lips followed, Bull met him half-way and their kiss tasted of mint and salt.

“Did you enjoy today?” He asked against Bull’s lips.

“Yeah _Kadan_. I did.” Bull guided his head back down to rest, and Dorian buried deeper into the solid chest in front of him.

Before the warmth of sleep overtook him, he pressed a kiss to the warrior’s chest, placed his hand over the strong beat of the man’s heart and whispered, “So did I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and being patient with my very very slow updates. ^____________^ I'm trying hard :)


	17. Space to breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of the end? Now that everything i finished perhaps things can be different

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only point of view this time! Apologies for the massive time skip, I honestly didn't have year of ideas to fit into the story my brain dried up. Thanks to those of you who are new and/or sill reading this!

              It was done. Years of Fighting for survival  Finished. Corypheus defeated, the Exalted Council done, and Solas, Solas attempting to undo the damage he had done. Dorian didn’t know if he could forgive the man as Max had. Solas had made the veil and age ago and then torn it, only in sections but the devastation was fast and irreparable. In Dorian’s mind, Solas was no different to Corypheus. The areas around those tears were filled with spirits and demons. The plant life and wildlife irreversibly altered, unliveable, unstable plots of land where people now gave a wide berth to when traveling.

Perhaps what Solas hadn’t counted on, was that when his world and the Fade were joined, the Fade itself was different, that then they could exist as one, but now, the Fade had been tampered with, it was not the same dream realm that the ancient elves had once walked and profited from. For now, demons existed within the Fade and weren’t just spirit that had been pulled viciously through the veil, no, they walked around and ruled the empty seat of the Maker, and Solas had wanted to join those two worlds together.

Max was convinced Solas could only tear the veil down in parts because the ancient elf had grown some attachment to the world as it was that he couldn’t outright destroy it. His experience with Corypheus perhaps tempering his hand with mass destruction and mass murder. Dorian didn’t care. He would be happy if he never saw Solas’ stupid shiny head again, but he knew he would. In the end, Solas has split his own impressively strong spirit in the Fade attaching a fragment of it to the permanent rifts ensuring that they did not grow but slowly and gently allowed the fade to leak through, filtering the amount of power that trickled into Thedas but not destroying it. Solas, now existing in the Fade tried visiting the old members of the Inquisition in their dreams, but the only one who really accepted him was Maxwell, and who on Dorian’s request, had told Solas to never grace the mage’s dreams and to “Fuck off for all eternity” though Dorian figured that Max had been much more diplomatic even though he understood Dorian’s rage. Solas had destroyed Tevinter.

Tevinter was now licking its wounds after a gruesome and bloody civil war. The elven slaves had disappeared slowly but noticeable, and “concerned” parties within the government had believed that houses like Dorian’s and Maevaris’ were stealing the slaves and setting them free. Then, the other race slaves believed it and flocked to the sympathetic houses, hoping to be magically whisked away, they became angry, scared when they were met with confusion. Masters started stealing other houses slaves when theirs went missing. Rumors spread, and slaves became more and more scared believing that all the slave that had gone were being used for massive blood rituals, finally, it took just one body slave that had been stolen to snap and kill the master and mistress of the house before the revolt happened. It was a young Qunari man and Dorian had no clue as to the fate of the poor wretch. His and Mae’s house had been trying to get him out because they had heard of his strength and willingness to help other slaves, Dorian would be lying if he said that saving a qunari didn’t have some personal effect on him, but they had been too late, and they never found him after he had killed his thief masters. The remaining family of the killed masters had gathered likeminded houses and stormed the slave’s former house, believing they had right to retribution, blatantly ignoring that they had stolen him in the first place.

Everything had spiralled out of control after that, no one listened to important houses anymore, the Tevinter government had tried to quash the rebellion of slaves and placate the angry families but could do nothing against powerful ancient houses that were now feuding, and so Tevinter was lost in smoke and blood as more and more ancient houses were pulled into the conflict. The Archon, while a powerful mage could not go around and simply kill everyone. Mercenaries were pulled in, the Crows were hired, civilians took up arms and the Soporati rose it up hoping to change Tevinter’s archaic classist ways through force. It was, as Bull so eloquently put it, “a clusterfuck.”

Refugees poured out of the city now, and Dorian could not return, when the initial rumors about them stealing and setting slaves free had circulated, he and other magisters who were like-minded had tried to stay and quell fears as long as possible, but in the end, they were the first ones driven out. All his hard work to force Tevinter to change without bloodshed, wasted, and he blamed all the loss, all the destruction on Solas. He could have at least left a note. _Dear Tevinter Slave owners, I have all your slaves, they are all my people and are free, iving in my magically created land that you can’t touch. Kind regards, Fen’harel._

 It made him even madder when he thought that perhaps Solas was pleased with what happened with Tevinter. The man had been so against Dorian’s culture and yet, his own had been the same: filled with slaves, he’d had no regard for the fact that Dorian had been trying to change that just as Solas had in the past, perhaps not as spectacularly world changing as the elven mage, but steadily and surely. He had spat on everything Dorian had tried to do and had the nerve to act benevolent and justified, he was not welcome in Dorian’s dreams.

But it was finished and no one really cared about Tevinter still engaging in little spats, honestly, people were just waiting for the remaining houses to die off. What people did care about was the sudden influx of mages into other parts of the world and a few of them made it to Skyhold which is where Max had coordinated a few of the groups that have moved against Solas, but mostly he had kept moving. Dorian hadn’t been involved, in fact none of the old crew had been, Solas had known them all too well. After Tevinter had erupted Dorian had traveled with Bull and the charges trying to keep the countryside safe for people fleeing the new rifts or stopping people from simply killing the Tevinter refugees out of fear.

Now the rifts were stable (as much as they could be), Fen’harel  or Sol-ass as Dorian preferred to think, was no longer a threat (except to potentially annoy Dorian) and there was as much peace as could be expected in a world on the cusp of change.

Dorian was sitting on the balcony where Vivienne’s lounge had been and surveyed the raucous crowd below. With him were Max, Bull, Cassandra, Cullen, Varric and Sera (who was already passed out on the floor), they were all quietly watching the new heroes enjoy their victory, thankful that it was not them down there. They were the advisors, the mentors, the ones in the background pulling strings.

“What are you going to do now Max?” Dorian swirled his wine around in his glass.

“Hmmm, taking up my family name and keeping Skyhold as a refuge and perhaps a place to run a business.” Max was being very vague, but he sounded happy.

“I assume you’re going to continue helping your fellow templars Commander?” Dorian tilted his head towards the blonde soldier.

“It’s not Commander anymore Dorian, just Cullen. Yes, I am, it’s very rewarding work. I’ll go back to the little estate and continue helping those who want to stop using Lyrium. Though I imagine it’s a little run down, I think I left it in quite a state during the Wolf Wars.” He sounded positively bubbly with excitement. That was what the common people had started calling Solas’ foray into villainy, not very imaginative Dorian thought, but people wanted something simple.

They all chatted more about their plans as the party and night wore on, Dorian felt strange, he felt like he hadn’t in years. There was no anticipation, he just was, he existed in this time and there was nothing that was about to kill him. Suddenly he felt weight and years drift off him, and despite his grief with the loss of Tevinter, Dorian felt himself relax. After living years with the knowledge that he would be actively waking up and going into the world with actions that could get him killed the realisation that this didn’t have to happen anymore felt like a physical a healing wind moved through him and he felt light.

He reached out and took the hand of Bull’s that was next to him and squeezed gently. Bull caught his eyes, smiled and squeezed him back. Suddenly he wanted Bull, to feel the man move with purpose inside him, to possess and be possessed. He wanted that gray skin covered in sweat and above him, heaving into his body while their lips were attached. He needed it like air.

Swiftly he stood and bowed to the table, “I’m afraid that I wish to celebrate in private with Bull now.” He looked to the man for reassurance that it would be okay and got a returning smile. “So we will bid you all a good night now.”

A chorus of chuckles and good nights sounded before Dorian all but swept Bull down the stairs and to his room. Dorian still had his room, especially for nights when he didn’t want to keep the mercenary up by trudging into the room late from research or work, but he had improved it a lot. A larger bed graced part of the room, as well as other small luxuries; honestly, Dorian adored it.

Dorian also adored Bull being in there taking up a ridiculous amount of space and now as he lead the quiet man through the doorway the shadow he cast was comforting rather than menacing. They disrobed quietly in companionable silence while Dorian flicked his wrists at a few candles for light, he pushed his covers aside and climbed into bed, Bull following him.

Their kisses were slow and lazy and when Bull’s hand trailed down Dorian’s body there was careful exploration. They moved together, their bodies well known to each other, and yet, to Dorian, it felt different. He was lighter, less stressed, suddenly he was once again just a man and not some hero or heroes companion, he wasn’t the dirty Magister trying to ruin Tevinter, he wasn’t the wonderous Magister trying to save Tevinter, he was just Dorian and he had everything he had wanted when he was young, angry and thought he wouldn’t get any of it (well, most of it). The thought of it had him reaching up and circling Bull’s neck in a hug, bringing the man down to him.

He stayed like that as Bull prepared him, fingers confidently stretching him before the burn of being entered followed. He clung onto Bull, burying his face in the other man’s shoulder and neck. Their lovemaking was quiet, no dirty talk from Bull, not indignant complaining from Dorian, just the sweet slap of flesh and labored breaths that seemed to sync to each other.

They climbed together higher and higher until Bull came with a deep shudder and groan, pulling Dorian’s head back, bending unnaturally and claiming the mage’s lips. Bull quickly recovered to retreat down to take Dorian’s still straining cock into his mouth. Dorian cried out as he was sucked down into wet heat, he could feel Bull’s throat around him as the man plunged his head up and down. Dorian came quickly, his hand gripping one of Bull’s horns hard while he thrust up into the man’s very accommodating mouth.

Bull drank him down, not missing a drop, his hands gently massaging Dorian’s arse as he shuddered through his climax. After a final lick, he moved up again, gently kissing all along Dorian’s neck up to his mouth where he pushed his tongue into the mage’s mouth. Dorian melted into the kiss, not minding that he tasted himself on the man’s lips. Soon enough they were settled again, Bull on his back and Dorian scrunched into his side.

As Dorian lay his head on Bull’s massive chest, his ear above his strong heartbeat something stirred within him. He stretched his arm out and laid it across the huge expanse of Bull’s belly while one of the other’s man’s arms came up and around his back while the other held onto the newly place arm, gray fingers traced lazy patterns along forearm and bicep.

It was in the quiet and darkness of the room, surrounded by warm flesh and safety that Dorian allowed himself to feel something he hadn’t in a long time, not since he was a child with bright eyes and nothing but unending optimism: hope. Not hope for his country or the world, but a personal hope, that one day he might find his place, people who cared about him and a partner who wasn’t ashamed of him. It was a small dim light that had all been snuffed out but now in the depth of his chest, that small tiny flame was flickering, peeping through the darkness, asking permission to burn like a raging fire. Dorian held that tiny fragile flame within him, imagined himself cupping his hands around it, cradling it and protecting it.

 _“Is it time?”_ The flame had a voice, his voice when he was a child, but it was uncertain, scared, barely a whisper.

Dorian the man, held that flame and smiled, he too was scared, but to the flame that was still flickering in and out of existence he whispered, “Yes. I think it is.”


	18. Where is the...?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a moment of panic, Dorian spills his well-hidden secret to the one man he was trying to keep it from: Bull.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! The pieces are in place to move this story towards its inevitable end, I plan for the next chapter to also have Bull's perspective, to see what he was thinking and feeling.
> 
> Once again thank you for reading this, and I apologise about all the typos, I have no beta. I do hope you enjoy it <3

Contrary to popular belief, peace was a good time for mercenaries. They were great “clean up” crews and ones who were multi-specialised like the Bull’s Charges were highly sought after. During war, people allowed their worst sides to show, they became bandits, people who preyed on those who were weaker, and when peace came those people thought that they could still get away with it, they thought people let their guard down in peace and they were right. The mirth of not worrying about the world ending make people happy and not consider the dangers that were around before, and that’s when they were hit, so Bull and his Chargers were extremely busy.

They were still part of “The Inquisition” though now disbanded and were a smaller peace-keeping force. The Exalted Council had seen to that and Max had honestly told him that he was glad to be rid of it, except now he bitched about the vast finances that had accumulated around The Inquisition. Max had contacted nobles offering to give back their generous donations and a few agreed, but the majority of them simply wanted the company to keep it. Some of them even said that it was their “natural contribution to the Herald of Andraste” despite the figure being Divine Justinia in the end, Dorian’s cynical brain figured that the nobles wanted to one-up each other with how pious they were. Even more surprising was that a few expressed their wish for Max to have their funds personally. Both the Tevinter mage and Ostwick rogue baulked at that idea, no way were any nobles house going to have anything to do with the Trevelyan wealth, no the money stayed just where it was, in the peace-keeping company coffers.

 

As such, when requests came in for help to the company that sounded like a Charger job, Max passed it on. Bull and co. were doing very well. No, it seemed that Dorian was having a problem with peace. While he had travelled with Bull during the Wolf Wars he had wanted a break and to better establish his already growing Booklinks business; his magical brand of books where scholars could access other articles from other journals. At the moment, he was contacting circles and universities around Thedas to see if any of their faculties would be interested in testing his special glyph linked books each book and services to write down articles were offered at a decent price, but profitable enough for Dorian to be more than comfortable without an Inquisition stipend or dipping into the money he saved from his time travelling with the charges (Bull had insisted on giving him his share even though Dorian had protested). He had a team of ex-Inquisition mages that – like him – were academically inclined and excited by the project, one man in particular was that peculiar elf mage that had basically resided in the library as much as Dorian and Helisma. When Dorian had approached the man (whose name turned out to be Taegen) about joining him in the project, the book-mad elf had all but hugged Dorian, ravenous and keen to get started right away. He was Maker-sent and all but Dorian’s right-hand-man, so everything was running smoothly but Dorian was itchy. He didn’t feel comfortable.

 

He wondered if perhaps he was having trouble adjusting to peace, with having nothing to fight, to not being on his guard all the time. He had gone with Bull and his Charges to a job to test the theory, and no, the same feeling was still there. A discomfort that wouldn’t go away. He was snappy too, all the time. He was snappy when Bull was in Skyhold and he was even worse when the man wasn’t around. Dorian had no idea who had set fire to his pants but he couldn’t be settled. He felt uncomfortable, even physically sometimes, like bad indigestion it had gone on long enough Dorian was sick of it. He decided one day to move his regular appointment for a check-up forward to that day after he woke up one morning, pottered around, had a - frankly very relaxing - bath when he stepped out of the hot water into the cold he suddenly threw up into the bin nearby. Bull had seen it all and rushed over to  pat Dorian’s back.

 

“Hey now. I didn’t think you drank that much last night, were you sneaking more that I couldn’t see? Having the hard stuff? Trying Maras Lok again? I don’t think you should, you know what happens when you try.’ Bull gestured with his hands to indicate all of Dorian as if that made a point.

 

“No, I did not” Dorian snapped, spat again then looked around dismally for his towel, “Where is my towel? Did you move it?” He couldn’t help the venom in his voice he was irritated.

 

“No” Bull dragged out the word slowly, “You didn’t take you it with you to the bath?”

 

Dorian got even more annoyed, ‘Yes I did. I always do. I hang it right here,” from his kneeling position he slapped the washstand that had a hook on its side for just what he said. “Where is my towel?” He glared at Bull who had stood and was walking away to the other part of the room where he stooped, “Look! Here it is!” he waved the towel around and had a big grin on his face.

 

“What are you smiling about? Did you move it there so you could be right? Why are you playing tricks on me?” Even while Dorian was accusing Bull, his logical brain was telling him to stop, that Bull was not that kind of man, and that it wasn’t anything to be so annoyed about especially since Bull had found the towel and was walking towards him with it open and looking warm and inviting. Dorian stood and stepped into the Towel-Bull embrace, but when Bull wrapped him up the man started vigorously rubbing Dorian’s back and Dorian got annoyed again. He shoved Bull away and stepped back clutching the towel. It was like shoving a very warm velvet covered wall, and it pissed Dorian off even more.

 

“I can dry myself thank you very much. Don’t be so rough!” ‘Stop it you, idiot. Bull has done nothing wrong. What is wrong with you?’ Dorian’s inner voice was all but confirmed when he saw a frown on Bull’s handsome face, he wasn’t looking at Dorian but at his towel covered body.

 

“You okay Big guy?” Bull’s tone was inquisitive and seemed hesitant.

 

“I’m fine. I just feel a bit sick.”

 

“Well, obviously.” Bull waved at the bin that held the contents of Dorian’s stomach. Dorian wanted to kick the bin over but glared at Bull instead.

“If you know the answer stop asking stupid questions!” Dorian’ body rolled as he fought another urge to vomit, but it was no use, he dropped to his knees and threw up into the bin again. Then there was warmth running along his back. And he realised Bull had his washcloth and had put it in that warm water and was running it down his back, but Dorian couldn’t enjoy it, he was still annoyed with Bull for no reason and with vomiting.

He coughed and retched some more before spitting. “Nothing to worry about, just a touch of food poisoning no doubt.”

Bull’s voice was soft, “You sure? I’m fine and so is the boss from what I could tell this morning.”

“When did you see him?” Once again Dorian hated the tone that came out of his mouth, so what if Bull had left him sleeping and went off somewhere without telling him It happened all the time? He also hated the rational tone Bull was taking! Meanwhile, Bull was making his way slowly towards the door still carrying a mildly squirming Dorian.

 

“Put me down this instant” Dorian gave his body a good jolt to emphasise his point and was – to his surprise – rewarded with Bull slowly lowering him to the ground. When Bull straightened Dorian looked straight at him.

 

“I can walk on my own thank you. You needn’t fuss.” Bull eyed his as he opened the door and held it while standing aside to give Dorian room, which Dorian took full advantage of and gently pushed past his lover. Skyhold in the afternoon was all abuzz and Dorian could hear some music coming from the garden below. He was tempted to peer over the edge of the balcony but no, he made an appointment to see the doctor and didn’t want the woman’s motherly eyes-of-disappointment directed at him because he was late.

 

He jogged down the stairs a little aware that Bull was following very closely behind him. The huge man was probably taking a few steps at a time to keep up. He was starting to feel sick again, so he lengthened his strides in the great hall, almost stopping to inhale the delicious scents of herbed chicken that was being served for lunch.

 

Maxwell was sitting in front of the banked fire with Varric and when he saw Dorian waved at him using the drumstick he was currently eating. Dorian spread his fingers and jiggled them a bit in a hello but didn’t stop. He needed to get to the doctor.

 

Out of the great hall he ended up jogging across the fields past the makeshift stalls that had opened on the grass since Skyhold had become a popular place to visit.

 

Finally at the door Dorian rapped at the wood rapidly there were a few moments wait, and Dorian assumed the doctor was with someone else because if she wasn’t she would have opened the door immediately. To wait; Dorian leant against the side of the building. Unsurprised to find Bull still there and, not that he was uninhibited by movement, hovering.

 

 

He reached a grey hand out and it grasped the material of Dorian’s robe his fingers gently twiddling the soft material between them. Dorian pulled the material out of his hand, “Be careful. Doing that will wrinkle the material.” His voice was harsh and he once again wondered where it came from. He watched as Bull straightened and stood tall, his chest pushed out, his shoulders pushed back and his massive tree-trunk arms slowly lifted to fold very deliberately in front of him. He looked like Dorian’s old Magic defence teacher back when he was just a mageling, except much more attractive and frankly must more physically intimidating, which set Dorian’s teeth on edge.

 

“Don’t” Dorian lifted a finger

 

“You’re being real nasty big guy you have been for a while.” Bull interrupted him, his posture was the same, but his voice was soft, it was strange and hurt Dorian’s brain.

 

“Nasty? I’ll show you nasty you, you” _‘Stop it’_ Dorian’s brain screamed, but it didn’t matter. It suddenly turned off because first Dorian was about to tell Bull off and the next he was being squashed against the man’s chest while he was banging at the doctor’s door and calling out.

 

“Doc! Doc you there? Dorian needs help!” Dorian had a moment to enjoy the man’s strength as he managed to bang on the door so hard it rattled its hinges before the door swung open to reveal the older healer.

 

Dorian stood up straighter and pushed at Bull determined to walk on his own, “Let me go, I’m _fine.”_ He was rewarded once again by Bull letting him go, where his legs promptly lost their strength he started to fall down, he landed on one knee and hissed at the pain.

 

“Why didn’t you help me?” Dorian accused as spun his head to face Bull who was bent at the waist, arms extended.  He watched as Bull’s lips pressed together tightly, and he could see the man’s jaw working, clenching over and over.

 

“Here big guy” Bull’s hand went under Dorian’s to cup his upper arm and started to lift. It once again annoyed Dorian.

 

He circled his elbow around trying to dislodge Bull’s hand, “Too little too late now.” He hissed, Bull’s hand wouldn’t be deterred and Dorian kept swinging his arm around trying to fend off the ‘helping hand.”

 

“Mister Pavus, please allow the Iron Bull to help you up rather than swinging your arm around like a demented wounded chicken.” The healer’s voice brokered no room for argument, and yes, when Dorian looked up there were those disapproving motherly eyes. Shame filled him. He knew he was being childish but he just couldn’t help himself it was like he was possessed.

 

He stopped, the thought suddenly pushing everything away and anxiety crashed over him. He accepted Bull’s help quickly. The man was no slouch, he bore all the weight Dorian put on him and would probably carry him if Dorian asked. He held Dorian while he walked to the chair near Healer Karin’s desk and when Dorian was seated Bull remained standing but put a warm hand on the back of Dorian’s neck. His large fingers playing with the short strands growing there.

 

Healer Karin sat down opposite Dorian and smiled but not before giving a pointed look at Bull.

 

“I get it doc, I’ll go if Dorian wants me to. I just gotta tell you though that he fainted out there and has been throwing up all today.”

 

She nodded her head then looked at Dorian, “Do you wish the Iron Bull to stay?”

 

“Yes.” Dorian said automatically, he didn’t even think about it, what was wrong with his brain? He couldn’t do anything now. The large man was dragging a heavy chair from across the room towards him looking at the man’s face he figured Bull was enjoying the obnoxious scraping noise of the legs on the floor.

 

Once the noise had stopped and Bull was seated the doctor promptly ignored the man, focusing instead on Dorian, “Now, tell me what’s going on.”

 

“Nausea and the little fainting spell out there. Of course, I don’t think it was a literal fainting spell, I would feel it if it was.” Dorian stopped to think a bit, “I’ve also been feeling strange” he paused to word himself correctly, “a bit out of control.”

 

“Magically?” Karin asked.

 

 

“Not that I know of, I mean personality wise, I’m a bit.”

 

“Irritable and unreasonable?” Bull supplied helpfully. His voice wasn’t nasty it held a factual unhurt tone like he was saying the sky was green…or blue.

 

“No one asked you.” Once again Dorian’s voice contained venom as he snapped his head to glare at Bull whose eyebrow actually crumpled and his bottom lip stuck out just the smallest fraction. Dorian took a deep breath and faced the doctor again.

 

“Ah, like that you see. You see I said that but my brain was thinking another thing! It’s been happening for a bit. I can’t control it! What if somehow, what if” Dorian breathed carefully he didn’t want to say this next part because of poor Bull, but he had to, “what if somehow I’m possessed! I don’t know how that could have happened without me knowing but what if it’s happened!”

 

“Dorian, calm down. I don’ think that something like that can happen to a man like you. You are a very talented mage, as you said something like that is unlikely to happen without you putting up a fight.” Her voice was calm and insistent but Dorian was too panicked after voicing his fears. How humiliating for a man like him to be possessed!

 

“You don’t understand! What if something happened to me to make susceptible! Like the ritual! Maybe it was latent and it made me not resist being possessed!”

 

“Dorian, that was a long time ago, we have seen no change in you since the ritual.”

 

“Ritual?” the Iron Bull’s voice was low and soft but both Dorian and Karin’s heads snapped to him and Dorian suddenly realised what he had done.

 

“Bull. Bull” He grabbed the man’s hand and pulled it towards him and leant forward, “I meant to tell you.”

 

Bull sat back and the chair creak, “Tell me what, when?”

 

“Back then. When I was kidnapped. They performed a ritual on me.” Dorian rushed it out he had too.

 

“I thought you stopped it.” Bull's voice was still soft and his eye was boring into Dorian unmoving.

 

“They…they did a second one. I think it succeeded.” Dorian grasped the man’s hand harder hi other coming to stroke the top of it desperately.

 

“And you didn’t think to tell me in the six years that we’ve been sleeping together? That it was important?” Bull pulled his hand out of Dorian’s despite Dorian trying to grab it again.

 

“Bull. _Amatus_ please. I was scared. I didn’t know what they did, I didn’t know how to tell you. Please listen to me. I’m so sorry.” Dorian couldn’t help it, tears started forming in his eyes while he darted them around, desperate to not let them fall. He tried to keep his voice strong to convey how serious he as about wanting to talk about this, to solve it and move past it. But the response to his pleas was the scrapping of that maker damned chair as Bull slowly stood and again pulled his hand out of Dorian’s.

 

Dorian immediately jumped to standing, determined not to let Bull simply walk away without hearing how sorry Dorian was. It was a mistake to stand so quickly. Dizziness overcame him, then nausea. As his slumped to the floor he didn’t vomit or pass out like he dreaded. No, the maker was merciful in that he got his wish to be able to keep pleading, which he did, crumpled on the floor gripping his chair’s seat in an attempt to stand again.

 

“I’m sorry Bull. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Please. I’m sorry I was a coward. I’m sorry I did this to you. Please give me time to explain. I owe you a truthful explanation. Please hear me out Bull. I’m sorry.” Dorian rambled. He kept up his litany of apologies even as The Iron Bull walked out the door and quietly closed the door.

 

It was the metal ‘clank’ of the magical bolt-latch falling that startled Dorian back into action. He picked himself up and deposited himself back in his chair with as much dignity and poise a cowardly man faced with the fruits of his inaction could muster.

 

“So, doctor. What is your diagnosis?”

 

All Doctor Karin did was take Bull’s seat and open both her hands in a cup on her lap and held it towards Dorian. It was automatic, the draw to those warm hands, her skin delicately papery and comforting, warmth that no magic could make seeped into Dorian’s as he placed his hands in hers.

 

She spoke plainly but with kindness, “I don’t know Dorian, I must to a full and thorough examination. We should both consult on those Venatori papers. But no matter what we find, just know that I will be here with you every step of the way.”

 

Dorian nodded and offered her a small smile, it was the least he could do despite the fact that now he didn’t even know where his heart had gone after he had driven it out of the door.

 

His hand was patted softly and drawn up. He stood and looked into the doctor’s eyes that were filled with sympathy as she said, “Come Dorian. Let’s begin your examination.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! As you can see I tried to do something I've wanted to do with the two perspectives. I'll probably get tired of it soon. This is my first work, no beta and only my proof-reading over and over until I don't want to look at it again. Any corrections are welcome. Might also be adding more tags as I go, but we'll see. Thank you again for reading.


End file.
